


Mirrored Memories

by autumnstar



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: During Regina's First Dark Curse, F/M, Flashbacks, The Dark Castle (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-05 00:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14605635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnstar/pseuds/autumnstar
Summary: Belle is determined to find out who she was before being admitted to the Storybrooke mental hospital. All she knows is that the person everyone thinks she is doesn't exist, and everyone thinks she made a deal with the infamous Mr Gold.Winner of Best Dark Castle in the 2019 TEAs





	1. A Heart of Gold

**The Dark Castle**

It hadn’t taken Belle long to build up a routine. Rumplestiltskin may have been intimidating when she first arrived at the Dark Castle, but he’d done nothing to actually harm her. He’d teased her, and tried to shock her, but it wasn’t lost on Belle that he could probably say far worse things if he _really_ wanted to hurt her. He simply chose not to.

Since he’d shown her to the library, under the guise of giving her another room to clean, Belle had started taking books out. She searched the castle for other places to read, and if they just happened to be the room where Rumplestiltskin was working, then that was pure coincidence.

It was when the weather started to warm a little, that Belle had stepped out into the gardens behind the castle. Maybe that was too generous a word. They had once been gardens, she could tell, but now the outside of the castle was drab. The grass was overgrown, and the walls and bare trees were covered in choking vines. Still, she liked being out in the fresh air. She found a stone bench at the end of a grass-covered path, and every day since then, that was where she read before going back inside to finish cleaning.

After doing this for nearly a week, Belle started to notice little changes about the generously-named garden. The path was cleared one day, and the next she spotted a patch of violets beginning to grow. The following day there were carnations, then peonies, and amaryllises. It was on the seventh day of the garden slowly brightening, that Belle walked out and saw the flowers around her bench. A beautiful bush of red roses had grown up behind the stone seat, and petals were scattered on the floor around it.

Belle forgot about reading. She tucked her book into the pocket of her apron, and chose three of the largest roses to pick and take inside.

Humming as she carried out her new job, Belle entered the great hall and tried to ignore the pang of disappointment when she found the room empty. She hadn’t seen Rumplestiltskin that day, and his spinning wheel sat untouched in the corner of the hall. Maybe after she’d put the roses in a vase she’d search the castle for him.

Finding a vase was easier said than done with all the clutter he hoarded away in the great hall’s cabinet. She pushed aside a music box, a golden candelabra, and a bottle labelled ‘drink me’, before she spotted a little vase at the back of the shelf. Belle pushed herself up onto her tiptoes, stretching to reach it, but her hand caught something else; something covered in a soft, velvet cloth.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Belle abandoned the vase and pulled the mystery object down instead. The velvet turned out to be a rich blue colour, and was wrapped around something with a long handle. Belle glanced around, found that she was still alone, and unwrapped the object.

“Oh,” she whispered when she saw what was inside. It was a beautifully crafted, silver mirror, that was quickly plucked from her hand.

“It’s not polite to snoop, dearie,” came a familiar, sing-song voice, and Belle was proud of herself for not jumping or screaming at his sudden appearance. She was getting used to his antics, she realised.

“I wasn’t _snooping_ ,” Belle corrected, and looked guiltily down at the velvet cloth she still held onto. She handed it back and watched with disappointment as Rumplestiltskin hurried to wrap the mirror back up. “I was looking for something and I--”

“Started snooping?”

“I got distracted! I was searching for a vase.”

“A vase?” He repeated, as if he’d never heard the word before, and made the mirror disappear in a burst of magic. “Whatever for?”

“For the roses,” she explained, and saw something flicker across his face. She wished she could read him better, but she didn’t like to stare. His appearance was so striking, and his grey-gold skin was hard to see in the shadow of the cabinet. “From the garden,” Belle continued, wondering if she’d get the same reaction. “Did you make them grow?”

Rumplestiltskin snapped the cabinet doors shut, which did make Belle jump, and stalked away from her towards the long table.

“So suspicious,” he answered with a laugh, one that was a little too high-pitched to be real. “It’s spring! I find that’s when most flowers start to grow.” With a wave of his hand, the roses that she’d left on the table were suddenly in a tall, golden vase. Belle smiled. He could pretend that the gesture meant nothing, and that the roses _weren’t_ his doing, but she knew better. Rumplestiltskin may not have wanted her to see his face, but that was precisely how she knew that it was his doing.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile, and followed after him to the table. She stood beside him, and he leaned back as she bent down to smell the roses.

“Why did you bring them in?” He questioned, bemused but trying to hide it behind a flippant wave of his hands.

“I wanted to share them,” Belle answered honestly, and turned to him with a warm smile. It seemed to catch him off guard, but he rallied quickly. He playfully narrowed his eyes at her and dipped his head, searching her face.

“With me?” Rumplestiltskin cooed, mocking her, but her answering nod made him falter. He straightened up quickly, rubbing his fingers together, and glanced at the roses as if they were a trap.

“Yes, with _you_ ,” Belle insisted, but he didn’t look convinced. “Don’t worry. I’ll start cleaning now.”

“No,” he said quickly. “There’s no need. You still have your book to read.” So he _did_ know she went outside to read, and that she’d forgone reading that afternoon to take the roses in for him.

He waved his hand in a circle, and in a cloud of dark smoke her book appeared.

“Such a quaint title,” Rumplestiltskin said, amused, and handed it to her as if it was one of his precious possessions. _No_ , Belle thought. As if it was one of _her_ precious possessions.

“It’s one of my favourites,” she told him as she took it back. “Have you read it?”

“A Heart of Gold?” His voice took on a light tone and a sickly note as he mocked it, with his hand over his heart. “I’d rather not.”

“I found it in _your_ library,” she pointed out and held it up for him to see the blue cover. “And you shouldn’t judge a book by its title.”

“I thought I shouldn’t judge them by their covers?” Belle smiled at his retort as she slipped her book back into her apron. Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One, was teasing her.

“That too,” she nodded. “That’s why I don’t mind cleaning. I like looking through your treasures. I mean, who knows what mysteries are hidden in this castle?”

“I know,” Rumplestiltskin replied, pointing at his chest with both hands. He looked back at the cabinet, to where he’d caught her sneaking a glance at the hand mirror, and waggled his fingers at her. “You should be more careful, dearie,” he sang. “Some things in there _bite._ ” He snapped his teeth at her, and Belle felt her smile pull wider.

“In that case, I’ll have to avoid cleaning in here,” she sighed. “Would you like some tea instead?” She offered with a teasing smile.

It was so easy for her to strip back that menacing, mischievous mask that he’d had when they first met, that Belle couldn’t help but smile. Everything she did seemed to surprise him.

“Yes,” he said carefully, his voice suddenly deeper and more serious. She nodded and turned to leave, and his distrust seemed to disappear.

“Where are you going?” He called after her, and this time his light giggle sounded a lot more genuine. “There’s tea right here.”

Belle turned just in time to see him bow low, with a dramatic flourish of his hand, and she spotted a tray of tea on the table that definitely had _not_ been there before. It was the china set she’d used when she’d first made tea for him, with two cups already full and steaming. One for herself, and the chipped one for him.

“How--?” _Magic,_ she quickly reminded herself. Rumplestiltskin’s own impish grin told her he was just a moment away from teasing her for her question, until she walked towards him. Then he just looked surprised that she was accepting tea with him. Belle didn’t know why he’d be surprised. It had been her idea.

“I thought it was _my_ job to fetch your tea,” she reminded, as she watched Rumplestiltskin’s busy hands filling the cups with milk and lumps of sugar.

"I'm thirsty," he complained. He said it as if she should feel guilty, or perhaps feel sympathy for him, and it made Belle laugh. That broke his serious pout, and he smiled like he was pleased with himself for making her smile.

“Too thirsty to wait for your little maid,” Belle suggested, and Rumplestiltskin’s eyes shined with amusement as he held out the cup for her. She took it gratefully, with a playful curtsy of thanks, and he bowed his head in return. “You’re very kind.”

His smile fell. He tried to hide it behind his long hair as he looked down to pick up his own cup, but she saw it. He was still for a moment, staring down into his drink, before he quietly answered her.

“I’m not kind,” he said, and Belle wanted to argue, but something about the words sounded almost pleading. It was as though he needed her to understand, and to remember what he’d told her. Like a warning.

Belle shook her head. She’d heard stories about Rumplestiltskin - the Imp, the Beast, the Crocodile - but all of his attempts to prove to her that he should be feared had fallen flat. There _was_ kindness in him, and he was starting to show her that more and more.

“You are,” she insisted, just as quietly, and he looked up to meet her eyes. “You have been to me. You could have left me in the dungeon and forgotten about me.”

“I could still do that,” Rumplestiltskin stated, but as with all his other attempts to threaten her, it didn’t work.

“But I know you won’t.”

"I might."

"You won't."

Rumplestiltskin closed his mouth and looked away from her. He looked to the cabinet, the windows, and then back down at his tea. Belle wondered if he was searching for something, or thinking of some clever retort, but he had nothing.

After a drawn out moment of silence, as both of them sipped their tea, Rumplestiltskin spoke again.

“You’re kind,” he whispered. “Too kind to an old beast,” he said as if he was mimicking someone, probably her father, but there was a sad note to his voice that anyone else might have missed. Anyone that didn’t know him.

“Don’t say that. Everyone deserves kindness,” Belle said, determined to get rid of those self-deprecating thoughts. He snorted at her sternness, and she knew he didn’t believe her. “Papa doesn’t know you. I _do_ , and if I want to be kind to you, then...” She stumbled, losing steam and the words to express what she felt. “Then I shall be,” she finished weakly.

Rumplestiltskin laughed, sharp and high, and stared at her for what felt like a long few minutes. He seemed to be trying to figure her out; to see if there was a trick hidden in her words or on her face. But he found none, because Belle had spoken the truth.

Hoping that her honesty would draw some honest answers from Rumplestiltskin himself, she took a step closer to him and smiled.

"Where have you been?"

"Away," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I had to visit an acquaintance. A rather annoying queen. Trivial matters, really."

"A queen?" Belle gasped. “Was it another deal?” When would he learn that being vague and teasing her only made her more curious?

"Not quite." Noticing her stepping closer to him, Rumplestiltskin took a step back and straightened up. "But I planted the idea for one. She'll call on me again soon."

Belle watched him closely as he took another sip of tea. That seemed to be the end of that. Whatever his dealings, Rumplestiltskin clearly wasn’t ready to share.

“I wish you’d share more with me,” Belle confessed. Rumplestiltskin gave her a curious look over his cup, but he stayed quiet.

She felt her shoulders sag in disappointment. She hadn’t expected him to reveal all of his secrets just because she wished he’d share, so she wouldn’t push him. He’d open up to her when he was ready. He let her wander freely around the Dark Castle, with only a few doors closed off to her by magic. If he could trust her in his home, then one day he’d surely trust her with his secret deal making.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Rumplestiltskin offered after a moment of quiet. Belle straightened up and looked at him, unable to hide her excitement. That seemed to amuse him, but she didn’t care. She’d listen to whatever he offered.

“Yes?”

Rumplestiltskin glanced around the room, searching for a spy that wasn’t there, and leaned closer to her. Belle leaned in, and in a stage whisper he announced, “I have plans for that mirror.”

“The silver mirror?” She clarified, and he copied her confused frown. “From the cabinet?”

“Do you have another?”

“No, but...” Belle wondered why they were both still whispering, and leaned back. It made Rumplestiltskin’s amused grin widen. “But telling me you have a plan isn’t quite the same as  _sharing_ your plan.”

“Oh, I’ll share it eventually,” he promised.

“So, it’s a magic mirror?”

“Not yet.”

Belle sighed and looked down into her tea. She’d been foolish to think that he’d break months of secrecy in one afternoon, but she couldn’t help that she was a little disappointed. She should have known his secret would be vague; a deliberate attempt to tease her.

“I have work to do,” he told her abruptly and set down his chipped cup, tea only half-touched. “I’ll be in my tower. _Don’t_ ,” he waved a finger at her, “Enter without first knocking. I don’t want my maid getting swept away by magic. Think of the mess.”

“Of course.” Belle nodded, biting back a smile, and got a sudden idea. He was already so flustered by her determined kindness, and she’d seen what a simple hug could reduce the Dark One to. She wanted to see how he’d react to another, gentle kindness. He had shared at least part, albeit a small part, of his plans with her.

“Right. Well.” Rumplestiltskin stretched his fingers and rubbed them together nervously, and took a step back towards the door. “Perhaps I’ll see you later?”

“Later,” Belle agreed, then pushed aside all of her fluttering nerves. She leaned up, placing a hand on his leather sleeve, and kissed his cheek. “After I’ve done some reading.”

 

* * *

 

**Storybrooke**

She was having a bad day. Some days, Belle didn’t feel like anything was wrong with her at all. She couldn’t remember her time before being admitted to the hospital, but that didn’t matter on the good days. On those days, she had no trouble making new memories, and not everyone in town kept insisting that she was someone she wasn’t.

This wasn’t one of those days. This was a bad day. The kind of day where Belle kept getting flashes of something that couldn’t possibly be her real memories, but were enough to make her doubt her sanity all over again. It didn’t help that that morning her father, and the mayor as she past her in the street, both called her Lacey. Even her friend, her one friend, called her that.

"So how's it going?" Ruby asked. Belle adjusted her phone against her shoulder, and tried to arrange a bouquet of roses in the vase she'd found on one of Mr Gold's shelves.

"What?" She replied, only half listening.

"Your new job with Gold, Lace," Ruby clarified, and Belle frowned at the nickname. Mr Gold was the one who'd called her Belle. Everyone else insisted on calling her Lacey, but it felt all wrong. Lacey was the girl who'd been locked up. That wasn't her now. "Are you really going through with it?"

"Ruby, I'm in Mr Gold's shop right now," Belle said, trying not to sound as exasperated as she felt. She loved Ruby, she really did, but she didn't understand.

"That must be why he came in here," Ruby answered, and Belle could tell just from the tone of her voice that her friend was grinning.

"He was there?"

"Yeah. He ordered _two_ drinks," Ruby teased. Belle could already feel her heart beginning to flutter faster. "I guess you're picking up where you left off?"

"I don't even remember where that was," Belle pointed out with a sigh. Roses arranged, she left them on Mr Gold's workbench and picked up her book. She was early for work that morning, and she’d hoped to get in some reading, until Ruby called her and put an end to that plan.

"Well, you always said," Ruby's voice dropped to a whisper, "You and him had an 'arrangement'."

“ _What_?” Belle asked, and then glanced around the backroom to make sure she was still alone. “What else did I say?”

“I don’t know.” Belle could almost _hear_ Ruby shrugging as she answered. “You said you two had an understanding. Something about a deal.”

"What sort of--?" Belle was cut off by the sound of the shop's bell jingling, and the familiar click of Mr Gold's cane. "I've gotta go. I'll call you later."

Thinking over what Ruby had said was a terrible idea, she knew that. She felt her cheeks burning, and dreaded to think how red her face must have flushed. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't _that_ sort of arrangement, as she turned to face Mr Gold with an unsure smile.

To her relief, he wasn't looking at her face. He stood in the doorway to the backroom, staring at the roses as if he'd never seen flowers before. She wondered what he'd make of the roses, if they really had once been intimate, but his expression didn't give anything away. Mr Gold just looked surprised.

"What's this?" He asked.

"They're from my dad's shop," Belle explained nervously. “They were so beautiful, and I just thought-- Well, I wanted to share them," she stuttered out. “As a sort of thank you… For hiring me. It sounds silly now.”

She didn’t want to admit that seeing the freshly picked roses had made her think of him. Maybe their ‘arrangement’ was the reason for that, but Belle felt far too flustered to dare to ask him about their past.

"No, sweetheart," Mr Gold said quietly. "It’s not silly." The nickname gave Belle pause, and she desperately wanted to ask him about their past together, but then he smiled and held up two takeaway cups; distracting her.

"For me?" Belle asked. The offer of a drink helped to calm her nerves somewhat, and Belle stepped up to him to accept the offered cup. Ruby may have spoilt Mr Gold’s surprise, but she was still touched by the little gesture and determined to play along. She felt her smile tug wider as she lifted the lid and caught the tempting smell of sweet tea.

"You know I like sweet tea," she observed before taking her first sip. It was delicious.

"Lucky guess," Mr Gold told her quickly and sat down. Belle could smell the rich coffee he'd bought for himself. "But it seems I chose well."

"You did," Belle gave a little, playful curtsy. "Thank you."

Mr Gold didn’t seem to know what to do with her thanks, but to Belle’s delight he bowed his head at her and played along. That’s when her book finally caught his eye. He frowned at it, from where it was tucked under her arm, and shook his head.

“Where did you get that?” He asked, trying to get a better look at the cover.

“It was in my box of things,” Belle hesitated, and held it out for him to see. “When I got out of the hospital. I've been reading it. Or… rereading it, maybe."

“You think you might have read it before?”

“Yes,” she said timidly. “It feels familiar.”

To her relief, he didn’t press her to explain further. Mr Gold simply nodded and took the book from her, inspecting its cover. It looked old, and Belle didn't think it was unreasonable to assume she'd had the blue book for some years. She'd even wondered if it had maybe belonged to her mother.

"It's a fantasy," she told him when he continued to stare at it. "About a king that everyone fears, but," Belle shrugged, "He's not as bad as he seems."

"How do you know he's not?" Mr Gold asked.

"Because he has a heart of gold," Belle said, amused. "Hence the title."

“Maybe the one with the heart of gold is you,” he suggested and put the book down. “There must be a reason people fear him.”

Belle watched him. Even when he'd put the book down, he seemed hesitant to let it go. He traced his fingers over the golden lettering of the title, and Belle tried to work out what he was thinking. It was as if he was lost in a memory.

"I'll start cleaning," she decided, not really wanting to disturb him.

"You don't have to do that now," Mr Gold said, taking his hand away from the book. "Sit. Enjoy your tea."

"I don't mind," Belle insisted, and looked at him over her shoulder. He was watching her, his coffee and the book forgotten, and he smiled slightly when their eyes met. "That’s why you asked me here, right?"

His smile wavered, and Belle thought she must have said something wrong, but he didn't seem hurt or angry.

She used the moment of silence to grab her duster and make a start on her work. Being a cleaner wasn’t exactly a glamorous job, to most people it may have sounded boring, but Mr Gold was the only person who’d offered her a job. She intended to make the most of it. Most places wouldn’t hire her after she’d been in the hospital, and cleaning Mr Gold’s antiques sounded fascinating.

"This is beautiful," she said, as she lifted a silver hand mirror from the top shelf. Belle was sure it had been cleaned recently and didn’t need her dusting it, but it called to her. She ran her fingers over the raised, curling vines and thorned roses decorating the back, and turned to show it to Mr Gold. “I feel like I’ve seen this before. Where did it come from?”

“Perhaps you’ve cleaned it already,” he offered, but Belle could tell there was something hidden there, just below the surface. She searched his face, and Mr Gold smiled at her. “I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.”

“I’m sure I’ve--” Just like that, Belle looked back at the mirror and the memory was gone. "So it’s old?"

"Very," Mr Gold nodded with a secretive smile. "And worth a small fortune to the right person." He stood to join her, leaning heavily on his cane, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he knew something she didn't. Belle watched him closely as he slipped the mirror from her hand, turned it over carefully in his own, and then handed it back to her. "You can have it. If you want it."

"What?" Belle took the mirror from him in surprise, and her expression must have been a picture because it only made Mr Gold smile even more. Was he teasing her, or was this about their past arrangement? Did he want something in return?

"You don't want to make a deal?" She challenged, testing him.

"No," he said gently, his smile softening. "No, sweetheart. You and I don't need to make deals. Take it."

There was that nickname again. Belle stared down in amazement at the beautiful mirror, and then hugged it to her chest. It was such a wonderful, expensive gift, and she had to fight back the warmth of tears that threatened to build in her eyes. Belle was not going to let Mr Gold see her cry, even if it was because she was touched by his repeated kindness to her.

"Thank you," she said again, breathlessly, and carefully set the mirror down beside the vased roses. "You're too kind to me."

"You're too kind to an old beast," he replied flippantly, and Belle felt her eyes widen at the same time that Mr Gold's did. He hadn't meant to say that.

"Don't call yourself that," she half-berated, half-pleaded. Something about her attempt at being stern must have reached him, because his annoyed frown briefly turned into a fond smirk, before he schooled his expression and waved a dismissive hand at her. He limped back around the workbench and sat down with a sigh.

"It's nothing," Mr Gold said, as if he was taking back the entire conversation, and going back to the moment she'd thanked him. "You're a hard worker. I like to reward hard work."

Belle didn't think that was the real reason he'd given her such a generous gift, but she accepted his explanation for now. He clearly didn't want to talk about it anymore, and Belle didn't want to push him.

She went back to cleaning, and a quiet settled around them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Even as they kept stealing glances at one another, and Mr Gold did a better job at pretending he hadn’t been watching her, the quiet between them was companionable.

“You mentioned being in the hospital,” he said after a while, breaking the silence. Belle turned to look at him, and found him thoughtfully flicking through her book.

“Yes,” she answered with an uncertain nod.

“How--” He cleared his throat. “How long were you in there?”

“Oh, it was only...” Belle trailed off, and Mr Gold looked up at her with a faint, encouraging smile. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It felt like years.”

He nodded in understanding and set the book back down.

“For as long as you can remember?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

If she’d had do admit her confused and missing memories to anyone else, Belle would have felt ridiculous. But there was no judgement from Mr Gold. If anything, he looked at her as if he understood.

“Have you ever felt like that?” Belle asked.

“Yes. But then I snapped out of it.” He smiled at her, as if his words held a secret joke that she couldn’t see. “When did they let you out?”

“It was--” She looked back towards his shelves of trinkets and antiques, trying to jog her memory. Even new memories were hard to keep track of, but she didn't want him to know that. “I think... It was just after Emma Swan arrived.”

“Miss Swan?” Mr Gold repeated.

“Yeah, I remember seeing her in the paper.”

“I see.”

The smile he sent her was full of such relief and understanding, and even if Belle didn’t understand it herself, she couldn’t help but smile back at him. He went back to his work, while his pleased smile remained on his lips, and Belle watched him curiously before returning to her own chores.

By the time she'd finished her dusting and polishing, after a long afternoon of Mr Gold fixing a pocket watch and indulging her curiosity about the things she was cleaning, Belle felt content and in need of some rest. She'd worked hard that day. Even harder than usual after the gifts of sweet tea and her new mirror.

Mr Gold came to stand behind her as she put her duster and polishes away.

"You're leaving," he said.

"Is that okay?" She carefully picked up her book and the mirror, which Mr Gold had wrapped in a beautiful strip of blue velvet for her, and held them securely to her chest. It was only then that she realised he was watching her again, with a far away look as though he was lost in a thought.

No, Belle decided. Not a thought. _Another memory_. He did that often, and it made her certain that they had a shared past together before she lost her own memories. She just needed to work up the courage to ask him about it.

"Mr Gold?"

"Hm?" Snapping back into the present, Belle smiled at him shyly until he caught up and registered what she'd asked him. "Of course," he nodded, smiling and almost bashful that she'd caught him staring. He made an obvious effort to look anywhere but at her. "I shan't keep you."

“You’re leaving early, too,” Belle said, trying to get him to look at her.

“I am,” he agreed with a nod, and Belle felt a twinge of disappointment. There were so many things that he was obviously keeping from her. He showed her more than once that he cared about her, but that care clearly didn’t mean that he trusted her. It was as if he wanted her to believe they’d never met before.

“Right. Well, I’ll just--” Belle motioned towards the door, but just as she stepped past him, Mr Gold spoke again.

“I need to speak to a certain deputy about her promotion to sheriff.”

Belle stopped and turned to face him. For a moment, she couldn’t believe he’d actually shared something with her, until she thought about that something and realised what he’d said.

“I thought the mayor had already picked the new sheriff?”

Mr Gold’s lip curled at the mention of Regina, but then it was quickly replaced with another small smile. The kind that said he wasn’t telling her the full story.

“She thinks she has,” he agreed. “But I intend to let miss Swan keep her job in the sheriff’s department.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate your help,” Belle said weakly, lost and a little confused about why it mattered to Mr Gold. She supposed it was simply because he didn’t like Regina, not that she could blame him. Anyone the mayor appointed wasn’t a sheriff the rest of the townsfolk could trust.

“I’m sure she will,” Mr Gold agreed dryly.

“Well,” she said, attempting a smile. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help?”

“You already help more than you know,” he replied reverently, and Belle felt her cheeks flush with warmth again.

"I hope so," she said as she tried to hold back a grin. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

“Tomorrow,” Mr Gold nodded, and Belle was suddenly filled with an urge to do something she'd never done before. Her heart pounded just at the thought of it, and she felt her cheeks burning fiercely, but she couldn't stop herself.

Pushing herself up onto the tips of her toes, Belle gave Mr Gold a kiss on the cheek.

"See you tomorrow," she hurried, amazed that her voice hadn't trembled, and then rushed out of the shop before she could see his expression.


	2. As Old As Time

**Storybrooke**

“And come straight home!”

Belle had to bite her tongue to stop herself from shouting at her father. It wasn’t up to him when she decided to return home, and she had no intention of rushing home from work that day. Since he’d decided to tell her about his plans to see Emma Swan chosen as Storybrooke’s sheriff, Belle felt she was finally getting through to Mr Gold. Soon, hopefully, she’d be able to ask him if they’d known each other before she lost her memories.

That meant spending as much time with him as he’d let her.

Already late, Belle half-jogged in her heels down the street from the flower shop. She waved across the street to the only person besides Mr Gold that she could really call a friend, Ruby - who was setting up the sign for Granny's - and came to an unsteady halt in front of the mayor.

“Madam mayor,” Belle said as airily as she could, taking a step back. She’d never liked Regina, that was one thing she could be certain of. Of the few memories Belle did have, she remembered seeing the mayor peering at her through the little window of her cell room door. Regina would smile at her, but it wasn’t a smile of sympathy. It was an unsettling smile on red painted lips, and the same smile that she was giving to her now.

“Miss French,” Regina greeted with false cheer. “Someone’s in a hurry to get to work, I see.”

“I’m late,” Belle admitted, and took a step to the side to move around her. Regina moved to block her way.

“I’m sure Gold can manage without you for a few more minutes.” Belle tried to keep her smile in place. There was no way she’d give Regina the satisfaction of seeing her frustration, or how eager she was to get to Mr Gold’s shop. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Me?” That did make her frown, despite her best efforts to remain friendly. “What about?”

“Well,” Regina said, lowering her voice. “It’s a bit of a delicate matter.” Something told Belle that Regina would have no problem talking about whatever it was in the street. Her tone dripped with insincerity, no matter how much she tried to hide it. “But it’s about your… health.”

Belle almost wanted to laugh, but she managed to hold it back. There was no way that the mayor cared about her health.

“I’m fine. Really,” Belle promised, and tried to step around Regina again. “In fact, I’m feeling _a lot_ better now that I’m out of that place.”

“Of course you are.” Regina hummed, casting a glance around as if she thought people were trying to eavesdrop. Belle stopped and frowned again.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing.” She held up her hand placatingly and smiled wide. “It’s just that, well, I’m worried you’re not keeping the best company. Bad company isn’t good for anyone’s mental health.” Regina made a face, as if the mere thought of the company Belle kept left a bad taste in her mouth. “You should get out more. Make some new friends.” Belle glanced towards Granny’s, where Ruby had been standing moments before, but Regina’s grin told her that that wasn’t quite what she’d meant. “Maybe find a young man?”

Belle stared at her. It took more than a little effort to stop herself from snapping at the mayor. _The mayor_. Why would Regina care so much that she was spending any amount of time with Mr Gold?

“I’m sorry?” Belle frowned.

“I think it’d be a good distraction for you,” Regina explained conversationally. “To find someone your own age.”

“I’m happy as I am,” Belle said as evenly as she could. “Thank you, though. I’m sure you’re only trying to help.” Regina didn’t look pleased with that response, but she finally let Belle walk past her.

“Indeed,” she said flatly. “I’ll see you around, Miss French.”

“You know where to find me,” Belle said with forced sweetness and marched away.

She had no idea what she was going to tell Mr Gold. It was bad enough that she was late, thanks to her father arguing about her working for him, without telling him what Regina had just said about him as well.

It wasn’t until she entered the shop, that she saw him talking to a customer and knew she had to tell him. She wasn’t sure why, she didn’t know if it would even matter to him, but something told her that he should know. Maybe that was partly down to the unusual conversation she’d walked in on.

“I don’t have it,” Mr Gold was saying impatiently, “And even if I did, it wouldn’t work in this land.”

The two men turned to look at her as the bell tinkled over her head; Mr Gold with a look of relief, and the stranger with a spark of recognition. Had they met before? She looked him up and down, and noted that he was dressed from head-to-toe in a finely embroidered black suit, but Belle had the feeling that the suit was somehow incomplete.

 _His hat_ , she thought.

“Maybe you do understand,” the stranger said, and turned back to Mr Gold. “Because the worst thing is having them right there in front of you, but they have no idea who you are.”

“I can think of worse things,” Mr Gold said wearily. “Customers wasting my time, for example.”

“And here I was thinking we were friends.” With that, the tall man pushed away from the counter and walked past her, giving her a small bow of his head in farewell.

“Close the door,” Mr Gold reminded the man, and was rewarded with the sound of the ringing of the bell, before he turned to her with a small smile. “Miss French.”

“Mr Gold,” she smiled back. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I hope I didn’t interrupt something important?”

“It’s no matter,” he assured her, waving a hand and beckoning her further into the shop. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, yeah.” Belle hesitated and shrugged. “I just ran into the mayor, that’s all.”

He frowned. The change of his whole posture from relaxed to tense was so quick she took a step back. She wasn’t afraid of him, but she hadn’t been expecting him to be so angry about Regina.

Belle watched him reach for his cane so he could join her in the middle of the shop.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and she realised that he wasn’t angry. He was concerned. Mr Gold was worried that Regina had spoken to her, and Belle wished she knew why. She didn’t trust the woman any more than he did, but surely speaking to her wasn’t something to be so concerned about.

“I’m fine,” she assured him with a nod and a smile. “She just slowed me down.”

“What did she say to you?” Mr Gold urged, and gently held her upper arm. “What did she want?”

Belle looked down at his hand on her sleeve, and wondered if she looked as surprised as she felt. The contact sent a rush of warmth through her, filling her chest, and she smiled up at him reassuringly. She had her suspicions why he was so worried about her, and she could at least reassure him that she was okay.

“I’m not sure, really,” she told him. “She said it was about my mental health, but--” Belle paused. Not because she was uncomfortable mentioning what had happened to her - Mr Gold never seemed to mind her hinting at her memory loss - but because she didn’t want Regina’s words to offend him. “She said I was keeping bad company.”

Just briefly, so slightly that she almost missed it, Belle felt his hand tighten on her arm. He released her quickly, scowling as if Regina had done more than just question his reputation, and nodded slowly.

“What else did she say?” Mr Gold asked. He looked angry, but he spoke to her gently.

“That was it. Apparently I should try to make new friends.”

“New friends?” He repeated incredulously. She didn’t really want to elaborate on that, but he only looked at her expectantly, and Belle quickly realised that he wouldn’t speak again until she’d told him.

“Younger ones,” she admitted. “It’s ridiculous. Ruby’s my age. What’s wrong with Ruby?”

Determined to forget about Regina’s petty jabs, Belle left him in the middle of his shop and went into the back room. He didn’t follow her, as she’d expected him to. Once Belle had hung her jacket up and grabbed a cloth and polish, she found him still standing where she’d left him. He seemed lost in thought, and Belle deliberately clicked her heels a little louder as she stepped into the room. He didn’t look up.

“Mr Gold?”

“That  _conniving_ witch,” he muttered in response. “She’s trying to split us up.”

Belle’s breath caught at his choice of wording. They weren’t together. There was nothing to ‘split up’. But the way he spoke fed Belle’s suspicions that they had been something more before she forgot. She just couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t tell her, especially when he clearly saw them as _something_. Something that the mayor didn’t like.

“Well, she failed,” Belle promised, trying not to smile. She shouldn’t get her hopes up. She still had no idea what they’d been to one another, but Regina’s jibe about finding a young man gave her a fairly good idea. “I came here, didn’t I? I didn’t run off to make new friends. Older or younger.”

That seemed to calm him. His shoulders relaxed and he nodded. He didn’t look at her, not even as he limped past her and stood back behind his counter, but at least he didn’t look like he wanted to go after Regina anymore. Maybe he needed a distraction. The last thing she wanted to do was to upset him, and she knew he wasn’t ready to answer her questions about their past.

“Why does she care so much about us?” Belle asked.

“She’s insecure,” Mr Gold answered. There was still a bitterness in his voice, but he was much calmer as he spoke to her. “She can’t stand to see other people happy. Together.”

“That sounds lonely,” she commented, and Mr Gold only nodded. He seemed lost in his head again, and Belle knew only a subject change would break him out of it. “How’re things going with Emma?” She broached. “I heard about the fire.”

That made a small smile flicker across his lips, and he lifted his eyes to look at her. Something told her there was more to that story of Emma’s heroics than met the eye. No wonder Regina had been so determined that morning to regain some control; even if it was over her.

“Everything’s working out as I’d hoped,” Mr Gold confided.

“Good,” Belle said genuinely, although she had hoped he’d tell her a little bit more. “Do you think saving Regina’s enough to win people over?”

“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not what’s going to get people to vote for miss Swan.”

“Do I want to know?”

“It’s probably best you don’t,” he answered with a conspiratorial smile.

“So many secrets,” Belle sighed loudly and stepped up to his counter. She leaned forward, ready to whisper something to him, and she didn’t miss how Mr Gold’s eyes dropped to the front of her top. “Don’t you trust me?” She teased.

“I do.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “I trust you more than anyone in this town.”

Belle leaned back at the admission. If it was anyone else, she might have thought they were teasing her back, but he wasn’t. Mr Gold meant it, and couldn’t even meet her eyes as he admitted to trusting her. Her heart started to pound in her chest, and she suddenly felt ridiculous just standing there, holding a cloth and polish that she hadn’t even attempted to use.

She licked her lips, trying to find her voice, and smiled at him tremulously.

“I trust you, too.” Taking a deep breath, Belle tried to make her smile a little cheerier and set down her cloth and polish. "Now," she said brightly. "It was coffee, wasn't it?"

Mr Gold's head snapped up. He looked somewhere between stunned at her admission, and confused by her question. It was enough to make Belle's smile come a little easier.

"What?" He asked.

"Your order at Granny's," she clarified.

"Yes," he said slowly, and Belle could almost see the moment that he mentally shook himself from his surprise, and slipped his calm mask back into place. "Stay here," Mr Gold insisted. "I'll get it."

Belle watched him as he walked around the counter, cane clacking on the wooden floorboards, and shook her head. "There's no need. Let me go."

It was obvious that he was going to turn her down. He was already shaking his head as he came to a halt in front of her, cane resting between the two of them. He was usually the one who'd pick up their order for the day from Granny's, and he did usually spoil her, but there was something else behind his refusal to let her go. Belle studied him, from his stiff, straight-backed posture, to the look of worry in his eyes that didn't match the cool indifference of the rest of his expression.

It wasn't until she thought back over their conversation, that Belle guessed what his problem might be.

"Wait," she said. "Do you think Regina's lurking outside?"

"She's not subtle enough to lurk," Mr Gold countered, a smirk playing across his lips. "But I still don't want her anywhere near you."

"Why?" She pressed, and once again, Belle could tell he didn't want to answer her. He stared a little too intently at a glass nursery mobile, and while it was pretty, it wasn't _that_ captivating. She sighed. "You can't just warn me about someone without telling me why."

"It's no matter," he said, waving his hand dismissively. Belle's patience was slipping.

"It clearly is," she said, trying to think of a way to get through to him. At the very least, she wished she knew why he was so reluctant to tell her anything. There was only one thing that ever seemed to get him to talk.

Standing to her full height, Belle lifted her chin and calmly asked, "How about a deal?"

"You don't need--"

"I'll accept your warning," she cut him off. "I'll avoid Regina, even if that means running away from her. You won't have to tell me why." She braced herself, watching his carefully shuttered expression closely. "If you'll answer another question of mine."

It worked. He looked back at her with clear interest, his eyes flicking over her face.

"Which is?" Mr Gold prompted, and Belle realised she hadn't thought that plan through at all. She bit her lip and glanced around the room. There were so many things she wanted to know. The main thing was the nature of their 'arrangement', but if her question was too open, he might not give her a full answer. She needed a question that would give away _something_ about their past, that wouldn't give him a chance to hide any of the truth from her.

"Have we ever kissed?" Belle blurted out, and an instant warmth spread across her cheeks.

Mr Gold stared at her, just as surprised by her question as she was that she'd dared to ask it. She clenched her fists, preparing herself for his refusal to answer, but when he gave her a small, barely noticeable nod she thought her heart might burst.

"Yes," he said shakily. "We have."

 

* * *

 

**The Dark Castle**

If there was one thing she’d learnt about Rumplestiltskin during her time in the Dark Castle, it was that he loved loopholes. He always chose his words carefully, and Belle had quickly realised that she needed to listen to every word he said, and to choose her own words with just as much care. It was a mistake to take anything he said at face value.

When he’d told her not to enter his tower without knocking, he hadn’t been trying to scare her away with the threat of his powerful magic. He’d been telling her she _could_ enter the tower, if she wanted to. Rumplestiltskin had even asked if he’d see her later.

Assuring herself that he wouldn’t mind, Belle approached the tower door with a stack of books balanced on one arm, and a small vase of flowers in her other hand. She didn’t think he’d mind her disturbing him - she hoped he wouldn’t - but just as she was about to reach out and knock, something caught Belle’s attention. _Voices_.

Someone was in the room with him.

Belle knew that Rumplestiltskin occasionally had visitors, but she never saw them. The last time he’d had a guest, Belle had been in the great hall and couldn’t help but overhear him refer to her as ‘a promising girl.’ Even if it had been about her abilities as a maid, the praise had left her with a smile for the rest of the afternoon.

Still, that didn’t mean he’d want her to interrupt whatever deal he was in the middle of making. She was about to give up and leave, when the tower door opened by itself and the candles in the wall lit up one-by-one to light her path.

Belle smiled and stepped inside.

She’d been in the tower room only a handful of times before, and not for very long. It was enough for her to be prepared for the chill draft of the place, and to find the musty, old book smell familiar. To her, the smell was inviting, and Belle didn’t want to think that maybe that was because the scent was so very _him_.

By the time she reached the top of the stairs, the voices had stopped, and she saw Rumplestiltskin alone at his wheel. It must have been someone that knew magic, she noted, for them to disappear so suddenly and quietly. The only sound in the tower was the gentle creek of Rumplestiltskin’s wheel, and her slippers tapping across the floor.

“Was there someone here?” She asked, just for something to say to get his attention.

The spinning of the wheel stopped, and he was still for a moment as she stepped across the room and set the vase down on his workbench. He’d seemed so surprised at her bringing the roses inside earlier, that Belle hadn’t been able to resist picking some carnations and peonies for his work space.

“There was,” Rumplestiltskin said at last. She hadn’t heard him get up, but his voice was close, and when Belle turned from the flowers she saw him standing only a step or two away from her. He eyed the flowers suspiciously, as unsure about them as he had been the roses, and then looked at the books in her arms. “Where are you taking those?”

“To my room,” Belle told him, and only then wondered if he’d mind her taking so many books at once from his library. “I’ll put them back once I’ve read them.”

He tilted his head, trying to get a better looked at the covers, and then placed his hand over his heart. “More stories about true love?”

Belle had to laugh, and even if he had meant it to belittle the very idea of love, her laughter made him smile.

“Some of them,” she admitted. “And some of them are history books.”

“History of what?” Rumplestiltskin asked and plucked one of the books from her pile, almost making the whole stack overbalance. He inspected the cover, flicked through the pages, and then gave her a curious look. “The kingdoms?”

“Just because I’m not going to see the world, doesn’t mean I can’t learn about it,” Belle explained. She held out her pile for him to put the book back, and smiled her thanks at him when he did. She wouldn’t tell him that he was also the reason for her newfound love of history. She already knew about King George’s realm, which had been her homeland until recently, but she knew woefully little about the other kingdoms. Rumplestiltskin was considerably older than her, and as far as she could tell, he knew most of the kings and queens of the neighbouring lands. If he was unwilling to ever give too much detail away about his deals, Belle at least wanted to know who he was dealing with and what to expect from them.

“I could tell you more interesting tales than those books,” he told her, pointing at the stack with both hands.

“But you never do,” she told him plainly, but not unkindly. It wasn’t a reprimand, just a fact that Belle had come to accept.

“Maybe I would if you asked nicely,” he retorted, showing his teeth in a mock grin.

“Please tell me a tale,” Belle requested immediately, and set the books down on his desk with a heavy thud. It was a huge relief for her poor, aching arms.

Rumplestiltskin’s impish grin disappeared, as though he really hadn’t expected her to accept his offer, but he quickly recovered. He pushed forward a grin, theatrically cleared his throat as if he was about to declare something very important, and then frowned.

“What tale would you like to hear?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Belle complained, although it lost its effect when she couldn’t stop herself from smiling at his antics. “Only you know what tales you know.” She hummed in thought and took a seat up on the table, her feet swinging freely off the floor.

“I know many tales, dearie,” he boasted, eyeing her curiously. “Some as old as time. I’ll tell you anything.”

“ _Anything_?”

“Anything.” He nodded.

“Then tell me about your latest deal,” Belle requested, and Rumplestiltskin’s smile wavered. “Maybe not the deal itself, if you can’t speak of it. But… What led to that person making the deal?”

“ _Ah_ ,” he breathed, but seemed to decide that it couldn’t hurt to tell her. He rubbed his fingers together and leaned back against the desk, less than an arms-length from where she was sitting. “The reason for the deal was insecurity.”

“About what?”

“A few things. Insecurity that someone was favoured over them. That they would never be good enough,” his voice deepened, breaking slightly at the end. “Or loved.”

“That’s terrible!” Belle scooted closer to him. “Why would they think that?”

“Because it’s true.” Whatever had caused his sudden change in mood was gone in an instant. In a moment his smile was back, and his voice sounded like he was on the edge of laughter. “I made sure they saw that.”

“Why would you want them to know they were unloved?” She frowned at him, and even though he continued to smile, Belle saw the flash of uncertainty in Rumplestiltskin’s amber eyes.

“That’s part of another tale,” he explained, and dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “I did warn her she wouldn’t like what she heard.”

“But she wanted to hear anyway?”

“Wouldn’t you wish to know the truth if something was being kept from you?” Rumplestiltskin asked, gesturing towards her with his hands, but not looking at her.

“I don’t know,” Belle answered honestly. “I suppose I would. But not if it was about people not loving me.”

“I wasn’t asking about people loving you. I meant--” He turned to look at her, and Belle bit back a smile when he realised she was sitting right next to him. If she was any closer she would have been pressed against his side, and it seemed to fluster him. Rumplestiltskin stood and pointed at her in warning. “Be careful what you wish for, dearie.”

“I wouldn’t wish to hear what people thought of me,” she decided. “Everyone deserves to be loved. It’s awful that anyone should feel they aren’t.”

“I doubt you’d feel so sympathetic if you knew who it was.”

“I might,” Belle challenged.

“You won’t,” Rumplestiltskin insisted, wagging his finger at her. “Or you might,” he said it as if he was annoyed with her. “You have a habit of seeing light where there is none.”

“I like to give people a chance,” she corrected. “Even beastly people.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say to that. His hands dropped, but his fingers continued to flutter by his sides of their own accord.

“You’re getting awfully brave,” Rumplestiltskin said.

With an unladylike snort, Belle slipped off the table and straightened her skirts.

“I’m just not afraid of you.”

“Not brave, then,” he thought out loud. “Just foolish.”

“Perhaps.” Belle nodded, picking back up her books. “But you won’t hurt me.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I trust you.” The words were out of her mouth before she could think about what she was saying. They stared at one another - her in embarrassment and him in awe - until he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“Foolish girl,” he muttered, and waved his hand between them. Belle let out a gasp of dismay as her books disappeared in a fog of purple smoke. The sound made Rumplestiltskin frown, but he seemed more frustrated with himself than with her.

"They're in your room," he explained impatiently, and shooed her away towards the stairs. “Now, go to bed. Read. Sleep. Whatever it is you do in there.”

No matter how hard she tried, Belle couldn’t hide the fond smile that pulled at her lips. He could pretend to be annoyed with her all he wanted, but there’d been no reason for him to magic her books to her room. Not unless he was worried about her carrying so many down the stairs.

She was about to point that out to him as she reached the top of the staircase, but his back was to her when she turned around. All she could see of Rumplestiltskin was his leather-clad back and trousers as he leant over his desk, and it took her a second to realise that he was smelling the flowers she'd left for him.

With an even bigger, contented smile, Belle tiptoed down the stairs as lightly as she could, and let the door close silently behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the kudos and feedback so far! I hope you all enjoyed this second chapter.


	3. Something Special

**The Dark Castle**

After her visit to his tower the previous night, Belle hadn’t seen Rumplestiltskin at all. He hadn't seemed to mind her being up there, and had even given her his full attention before he decided to shoo her off to bed. She couldn’t understand why he chose to hide from her, but she’d decided - while she ate her breakfast alone - that she would visit him again.

This time, instead of books and flowers, Belle carried a tray of tea. She held it between one hand and her hip, and reached out to knock on the door, but it opened by itself. Just like the night before, Belle heard voices as the candles softly flickered to life to light her way.

Climbing the stairs as silently as she could with the china shaking on the tray, she stepped just high enough to peek through the banisters at the top of the stairs, and saw Rumplestiltskin stood at his wheel. He had his back to both her and the owner of the other voice, as he effortlessly span straw into gold.

It was a man talking to him. A tall man, in a heavily embroidered black coat and carrying a top hat. Rumplestiltskin seemed less than interested, at first.

"Yes, yes," he said impatiently, cutting the dark-haired man off. He turned to him, a string of gold pinched between his thumb and forefinger. "But have you got what I asked for?"

"Not yet," the stranger admitted. "I'm still looking."

"Look faster, dearie. You've forgotten how precious time is, jumping between realms."

Rumplestiltskin used the same tone he often used on Belle when he was trying to scold her, but they both knew he didn't really mean it. That meant that this stranger was someone he knew well, if not a friend. The way the man rolled his eyes at Rumplestiltskin certainly said that they were on amiable terms.

"I'll have it for you soon," he promised, but Rumplestiltskin was pretending not to listen.

"Pass me those scissors," he instructed, and with a confused frown, the stranger turned to the workbench to where Rumplestiltskin was pointing. He held up a huge pair of gilded scissors, and silently handed them over. "Thank you," Rumplestiltskin said in a sickly sweet tone, baring his teeth, and used the blades to cut a short length off the golden thread.

"Here." Spinning on his heel, he handed the thread to the stranger, who thanked him with a bow and tip of his hat. "Consider it a down payment. You'll get the rest when you bring me what I need."

"Of course," the stranger smiled. "It's been a pleasure, as always. Shall I leave you to talk to your maid alone?"

Belle dipped down quickly, but the sudden movement clattered the teacups and spilt some tea from the teapot. If she had a more colourful vocabulary, she'd have had some choice words to mutter over being caught.

"--Doing in here?" She heard Rumplestiltskin say, catching the tail-end of his comment.

Holding her breath, Belle steadily straightened and stepped up a few more steps so that they could see her.

"Ah," he hummed, amused. "Nice of you to grace us with your presence at last,” Rumplestiltskin said dryly, and turned his back on both her and the stranger. "I trust you can see yourself out?"

"I can," the stranger agreed, and made his way towards Belle and the stairs. She smiled at him, and the smile he gave her in return seemed friendly enough.

"And close the door," Rumplestiltskin reminded him. They were silent for a moment, and Belle watched him as he returned to his wheel, until the footsteps as the stranger left disappeared. Then they really were alone.

“I thought you might want some company up here in your lonely tower,” Belle teased. “But I see someone beat me to it.”

She set the tray down and began to pour them both a cup of tea. She’d also grabbed a loaf of fresh bread from the larder, and a selection of cheeses that had appeared in there that morning. She often wondered if Rumplestiltskin knowingly kept the pantry stocked up, or if the magic of the castle did that on its own.

“How thoughtful,” he said with a mock bow. “But I’m very busy. Too busy to entertain anyone else.”

“Then why did you let me in?” She played along, handing him his chipped cup of tea.

“I didn’t,” he insisted, accepting the cup from her. Their fingers brushed, and he pulled his hand away quickly as Belle felt her stomach flip. “The castle did.”

Rumplestiltskin seemed even more guarded than he had been the day before, when he’d discovered the roses in the great hall, but she could see a light dancing in his eyes. He was trying so hard not to smile, and he hid it behind his cup as he took a sip of tea.

“I brought food, in case you’re hungry.” She knew he couldn’t actually get hungry, he’d told her so often enough, but she still worried when she knew he’d gone a day without having at least one meal. He looked like he was about to remind her of that, and then thought against it when she held out a plate with two slices of bread and a small lump of cheese

“What are you working on?” Belle asked him.

Rumplestiltskin waved his hand as if it wasn’t important, and took the plate from her with a thankful smile.

“This and that. An experiment.” His answer was as vague as ever, and Belle tried not to sigh or feel disappointed. If he didn’t want to share something with her, he wouldn’t.

“Is this about your acquaintance, the queen?”

“What?” He turned on her quickly, as if she wasn’t supposed to know about that. Belle took a sip of her tea and tried not to smile when he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Yesterday you said you went to visit an acquaintance," she reminded, and he nodded awkwardly. He'd forgotten that he'd told her, Belle realised. "Do you really think she'll make a deal with you?"

"Oh yes," he said confidently and took a bite of his bread.

“How do you know?” She returned. For once, he didn’t seem perturbed by all of her questions. Rumplestiltskin simply watched her as she sat on the table beside their tray and stared back at him. She had no idea why he seemed so fascinated with the way she sat. “Are you just hoping they’ll want to make a deal?”

“Of course not,” he said, frowning at the idea. “I know how to recognise desperation. She’ll take my deal. Whether she wants to or not.”

“How do you know she’s desperate?” She challenged. Pretending to underestimate or second guess him seemed to be the best way to get him to talk. Rumplestiltskin was always keen to impress her, and Belle didn’t want to admit that he didn’t even need to try for her to be impressed by all the things he knew.

“Observations,” he answered. “Some people will do anything for love. Or a lack of it.”

“Anything?”

“Whatever it takes,” he assured her, and she suddenly felt like they were talking about something else. Belle nodded wordlessly and took a big bite from her bread.

“Here,” Rumplestiltskin said suddenly, holding a vial out towards her. “Hold this.”

He’d moved so quickly to hold out the little glass tube, that Belle hadn’t even noticed him putting down his plate. She carefully took the vial from him, wary of shaking the clear liquid inside. He gave her a nod, satisfied with how cautiously she took the glass from him, and then turned his back on her. She watched him grab a roll of golden thread, cut a piece off carefully, and then almost jumped back as he turned to her with a dramatic twirl.

“Careful, dearie,” he playfully chided. Belle got the feeling that she didn’t need to worry at all about holding the vial still. She should have known that he wouldn’t hand her a potion that could harm her.

Caught up in her thoughts, Belle froze when she felt his hand curl around hers. She’d expected his skin to feel cold, but his gold-flecked palm was warm to the touch, and Belle felt the warmth spread up her arm and into her cheeks. He didn’t seem to notice. Rumplestiltskin was concentrating too much on the spell for that.

With a steady hand, he dropped the little piece of gold inside, and Belle felt her mouth drop open.

The metal fizzed in the clear solution, and disappeared into tiny, gold bubbles. The liquid began to glow, and shined a golden light out between their clasped hands.

“Very good,” he said gleefully, pleased with himself, and released her hand for her to get a better look.

“What is it?” She asked curiously, watching how the liquid gold danced and rippled as she moved the vial.

“It’s nothing. Just a simple truth spell.” Rumplestiltskin shrugged and waved a hand as if it was unimportant.

“Oh,” she sighed, trying hard not to smile. She knew what he was trying to do. He thought that downplaying his achievement, acting as if that small feet of magic was nothing, would impress her. “I thought it’d be much more impressive than that.” Belle did her best to sound disappointed as she held the glass out for him to take.

“What?” He blinked. He hadn’t expected that.

“It’s only a simple spell,” she repeated. “I thought you were much more powerful than that.”

“I am.”

“But you just said it was nothing.”

“Nothing for _me_ ,” Rumplestiltskin clarified, and that was it. Belle couldn’t hold back her smile anymore. If he was confused by her flippancy towards his magic before, he looked utterly baffled now. “What are you smiling about?”

“It’s nothing,” Belle said, clasping her hands behind her back in the perfect picture of innocence. He narrowed his eyes. “I just thought it was wonderful, but then you said it wasn’t, so...” She shrugged.

“Wonderful?” He repeated, like the very idea of his magic being _wonderful_ was a great insult. “This is the darkest magic there is.”

“It didn’t look very dark to me.” Trying to sound bored, Belle went back to her cooling tea and food. “What do you want with a truth spell? Truth told by dark magic doesn’t sound like something I’d want to hear.” She paused to sip her tea. “I think I’d prefer a white lie. Or to be told nothing at all.”

Rumplestiltskin stared at her as though she was talking another language, or was some bizarre creature he’d never seen before. She smiled at him, hoping to show that she’d only been trying to tease him, but he didn’t smile back. He just looked away, quickly, and set his little glass vial down in a wooden stand.

“Not everyone thinks as you do,” he told her, his voice deeper than usual. “Some people are so desperate for the truth, that they’ll do anything. Trade anything. Whether it comes from dark magic or no.”

Belle thought about that, watching his back as he drank his tea and worked at his desk. She got the impression that he was only doing that so that he wouldn’t have to look at her.

“Another observation?” She asked. He paused and looked at her over his shoulder, an odd smirk on his face that Belle couldn’t read.

“What else?”

With a faint smile of her own, Belle stepped toward him. He froze when he heard her move closer, but didn’t turn around.

“How does it work?” She asked. “Do you drink it?”

“Drink it?” He wrinkled his nose and turned to her with a wave of both hands. “Of course not. You _pour it_ ,” he mimed pouring it over the back of his hand, “Onto an object. Something special. A gift.”

“What sort of gift?”

“A special one. From someone special,” Rumplestiltskin answered, putting a strange emphasis on the final word, like he was mocking it.

“And the object tells you the truth?” Belle pressed, her curiosity getting the better of her again.

“Objects don’t talk.” He gave her a impish grin, showing his teeth.

“Then I don’t understand.” She frowned at him and shook her head, and Rumplestiltskin’s smile softened.

“You will.”

 

* * *

 

**Storybrooke**

The town hall was silent. No one seemed to know what to do or where to look. It was an uneasy atmosphere, punctuated by the sudden click of Mr Gold’s cane as he walked out. Belle leaned forward to stand up, but her dad gripped her wrist and shook his head. His determination to keep her from Mr Gold only made her want to follow after him even more.

Emma’s claims that he’d deliberately started the fire sadly weren’t that shocking to Belle. If anything, she suspected that everyone’s silence came from shock at Emma’s confession against Mr Gold, rather than hearing what he was capable of.

Belle hurried down the aisle after him, aware of curious eyes following her, and burst out into the cold evening air. She hugged her arms around herself and the thin cardigan she’d chosen to wear, and saw him limping away towards his cadillac.

“Wait!” She called after him, and saw him briefly hesitate, before he chose to keep walking. Belle frowned and ran after him. “Mr Gold!”

Calling his name stopped him, and he half-turned to greet her as she teetered to a stop in her high heels.

“Miss French.”

“ _Belle_ ,” she corrected. “Why did you leave?”

“I think it was for the best, don’t you?” He was being more closed off with her than he was in the privacy of his shop. It was almost as if he didn’t want people to see the kinder side to him. Or to see him showing _her_ kindness.

“You could have defended yourself,” Belle suggested, as a cool breeze blew around them and sent a shiver down her back. She tightened her arms around herself. “Why does it matter so much to you who the next sheriff is?”

“Because,” Mr Gold slipped off his blazer, switching hands on his cane to keep his balance. “I need miss Swan to stay in Storybrooke.”

“Why?” Her curiosity got the better of her. Belle was so caught up in trying to figure out his plans, that she didn’t realise what he was doing until he leaned closer and wrapped his jacket around her shoulders. “Oh.” It carried his warmth, and as he pulled it closed at the front, she caught the sharp scent of his cologne. “Thank you.”

“Come,” he said gently and offered her his arm. “You can’t stay out here. Let me take you home. Unless you want to cast your vote for the new sheriff?”

“No. Something tells me you’re going to get your way,” Belle admitted with a playful smile and took his arm. She let him lead her away from the town hall, with his own smirk playing on his lips. It made Belle’s smile break into a grin.

“What makes you so sure miss Swan will win?” He asked conversationally, but something in his tone told her that she was right.

“Oh, I don’t know.” She hummed in thought and walked a little closer to him. “Call it a lucky guess. I have a feeling you would _not_ have let Emma tell anyone what you did. Not unless you wanted her to.”

“Very good observation.”

“How did you know she’d tell everyone it was you?”

“My own good observations,” he answered with a smile. “Some people will do anything for love. In this case, the love of her child.”

That made Belle think about her dad. With a quick glance over her shoulder, Belle saw the first few people beginning to spill out of the town hall. A handful of them looked their way, and she felt her cheeks flush when she saw them whispering to one another.

“Ignore them,” Mr Gold told her gently. “There’s nothing wrong with us walking together.” His words almost worked to calm her, but just as he brought her to his car and opened the door for her, Belle saw her dad step outside with the other townsfolk.

She hoped he couldn’t hear what they were saying. He’d hate her leaving with Mr Gold, but she couldn’t find it in her to feel guilty about it. Mr Gold had been nothing but good to her, and she knew now that they’d kissed before she went into the hospital. Whatever had happened to make her father distrust the man so, Belle intended to find that out for herself.

She ducked quickly into the cadillac before her father could see, and got comfortable as Mr Gold limped around the car and joined her. Without either of them saying a word, Belle offered to take his cane and propped it against her legs. It made him smile, just slightly, but it was enough to bring a wide smile to Belle’s own lips.

“Are you going to answer my question?” She teased.

“What was the question?” He asked, and she could tell just by the twinkle in his eyes that he knew exactly what she was asking.

“ _Why_ do you want Emma to stay?” Belle repeated.

“Why did you follow me?” Mr Gold countered, and she pressed her lips together. She couldn’t answer that. Not any more than she suspected he wanted to tell her about Emma.

Belle looked out of the window as Mr Gold started the car and began to drive. It took her a moment or two to decide whether or not she wanted to tell him, but in the end she decided that she had to. If she wanted the truth about their past relationship, then she had to be truthful with him.

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” she finally answered, but he didn’t reply. She felt a twist of nerves in her stomach and glanced across at him. From what little she could see in the shadows of the car, he didn’t look angry or uncomfortable about what she’d said. He looked conflicted, if anything. It was as if part of him _wanted_ her to care about him, and the other part didn’t think she should.

“I know Emma told the truth,” Belle added, in case he was in any doubt that she was sure about who he really was. “But… It can’t have been nice being called out like that in front of everyone.”

“I’m fine, Miss French,” Mr Gold said.

“ _Belle_ ,” she insisted. “You called me that once. Why can’t you do it now?”

He didn’t answer, and the silence stretched as Belle watched both him and the dark road speeding by. She frowned as the answer occurred to her.

“Are you trying to distance yourself from me?” Again, he didn’t answer her, but he didn’t have to. She saw his jaw tighten and his hands grip the wheel hard. She was right. “You’re not doing a very good job, Mr Gold.”

“I can see that, Miss French.” As much as it hurt to hear him confirm that he didn’t want to get too close to her, Belle caught the whisper of a smile on his face. He was trying to tease her, to soften the blow.

“Since we’re being honest,” Belle chanced, keeping a close eye on his face. He didn’t turn to look at her. “Can I ask you something?”

Mr Gold hesitated, and then gave her a single nod. “Of course.”

“You said that… we’d kissed?” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and that was all the confirmation Belle needed. “Then why are you avoiding me?”

"I think you’re overestimating the nature of our relationship," Mr Gold said flatly.

"Well, what--?" She cleared her throat, her voice breaking. "What kind of relationship did we have?"

He did look at her then, albeit briefly, and she could tell how utterly lost he really felt. He seemed to be searching for the right words, but she knew him. He was clever with his words and could tell her anything, without giving anything away at all.

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“I might.” She frowned. “I’ve had so many people trying to remind me who I used to be. They call me Lacey. They tell me I liked to drink, and party.” Belle looked at him pointedly. “And that I kept bad company. They tell me all of these things I used to do, but the only thing I believe so far is that we’ve kissed. Nothing else feels right!” She hesitated and pulled his blazer tighter around her shoulders. “You don’t expect me to be her.”

He wasn't going to answer her - or he couldn't answer her - that much was clear as the silence stretched out between them. Mr Gold's jaw worked, and he opened his mouth once, twice, but then he'd decide against whatever it was he was about to say. She had no idea what could have happened between them to make him so hesitant to admit what their relationship had been. It couldn't have been something bad, she reasoned with herself, otherwise he never would have offered her a job.

Belle was about to point that out, when her phone buzzed against her side. She reached into her pocket, kept warm by Mr Gold's jacket, and pulled it out to check her messages.

It was her dad. He wanted to know where she was, and Belle had no idea how to tell him she'd accepted a ride with the man he hated.

"Is there a problem?" Mr Gold asked, and the sudden sound of his voice made her jump. She didn't think he'd notice her checking her phone, or hesitating on how to reply. Or not reply.

"Yeah," Belle answered, staring unseeingly down at her phone. "It's my dad. I probably should have told him you offered me a ride."

Mr Gold snorted. "He never would have let you come."

"I would have accepted your offer anyway," she said with determination and put her phone away. Mr Gold wasn't the only one keeping details about her past from her. Her father was, too, but at least Mr Gold seemed to be doing it so that she could make up her own mind about him. Her dad just didn't want her near his landlord because he didn't like him.

"My dad thinks something's going on," Belle continued, watching him closely. "I think half the town does, and Ruby told me about our arrangement."

She tried to catch any hint of surprise, or guilt, or amusement, on his face, but he showed nothing. His mask remained and Belle hated it. There was a long pause, long enough for her to think he wasn't going to answer, but then Mr Gold cleared his throat and inclined his head towards her.

"What did she say?"

"That we had an understanding. I can guess what she meant." Still sick with nerves, but made a little braver by him not outright denying anything, Belle decided to be blunt. "Did we really make a deal?"

"Oh, we made a deal."

"So we had sex?" That got a reaction out of him. His eyes flickered wider and he swallowed, before he caught himself and put the stoic mask back in place. Belle rolled her eyes. "Why would everyone think we're sleeping together now if we weren't before?"

"I wouldn't know, Miss French."

" _Belle_ ," she corrected. "And my dad seems to think he knows. Why don't you?"

"Your father never knew," Mr Gold said quickly, the words strained. He was forcing himself to speak, but at least he was trying. "No one ever knew. They only thought they did."

Belle studied his profile, as Mr Gold kept his eyes trained on the road and away from her. His jaw was set, his hands gripped the wheel far tighter than necessary, and he was definitely uncomfortable. But that didn't tell her whether or not they'd ever been intimate.

"Why do they talk about us?" She asked.

"They have nothing better to do?" He suggested bitterly. "The town's full of nasty rumours."

She nodded her understanding, a warmth rising in her cheeks as she thought about all the stories people must have invented about them. The more she thought about it, and the more Belle tried to broach the subject with Mr Gold, the more certain she was that at least some of the rumours were true. Gossip may not have been nice, but she couldn’t agree that the idea of them together in any way was nasty.

“I bet the truth’s a lot better than the rumours,” Belle dared herself to say, smiling playfully when she saw his lip quirk up. “Did we--?”

“We’re here.” He interrupted.

“What?”

“This is where you live, isn’t it?” Mr Gold teased and she rolled her eyes at him. It was the least subtle way of avoiding her question, but she’d let him, for now.

Mr Gold took his cane and got out of the car. She waited. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but something told her that he didn’t want her to get out on her own. It was some sort of habit, that Belle assumed must have been left over from their old relationship.

A moment later she was proven right as Mr Gold opened her door and offered her his hand.

“Thank you. Are you coming in?” She asked him on a whim, letting him help her out of the cadillac. The question seemed to surprise him, but he hid it quickly and looked towards the house.

“Not tonight,” he said flatly, and Belle’s heart sank. “Maybe another night.” She wondered if she’d invited him into her house before, to make him suggest that.

“Is this you trying to keep your distance again?” She hadn’t meant it to sound like a challenge, but it had and she winced at how harsh she’d sounded. To her relief, even if he still wouldn’t look at her, Mr Gold didn’t seem to notice her tone.

“No,” he answered carefully, with just a hint of a smile. “This is me being very aware that you live with your father.” He looked at her then, and his smile widened. “And we wouldn’t want him to come home and _think_ he knows what’s going on, would we?”

“I don’t care,” Belle said impulsively. It wasn’t exactly true, but she was getting sick of people telling her what she should and shouldn’t do. Or who she shouldn’t be around. “He thinks those things anyway. That doesn’t mean we can’t talk!”

“You’re inviting me in to talk?”

“Or-- I don’t know. Have a drink?” Her frustration began to fade as she realised how childish she must have sounded to him. His smile didn’t seem to be mocking her, and he hadn’t left yet, but that didn’t stop her from feeling ridiculous. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologise,” Mr Gold assured her quietly. The teasing note may have disappeared from his voice, but Belle still sighed and looked down. She just wanted a chance to get to know him better. There had to be a reason why she felt like so close to him already, but every time she tried to get answers he would hold her at arms-length.

“Belle,” he said her name so quietly that it took her a second to realise he’d spoken at all. His finger hooked under her chin, and Belle shyly lifted her eyes to look at him. He looked stricken that he’d upset her. She tried to smile at him, but even to her it felt shaky and forced.

“You’re right.” Mr Gold took his hand from her chin to gently brush her hair behind her ear. “We were close. A long time ago.”

“It can’t have been that long ago,” Belle tried to reason, and wiped her hands across her eyes. She didn’t know why she was crying. She wasn’t upset. She was relieved that her feelings had been proven right. That wasn’t something to cry about, was it?

“It feels like it,” he whispered.

Watching him through tears, Belle felt herself begin to smile. She placed her hand over his where he gripped his cane in a white-knuckle grip. He didn’t seem to know what else to say, and Belle had too many questions to be able to think clearly. She needed time for the revelation to sink in before she could get her thoughts straight.

That left only one thing she was certain of. Before Mr Gold could pull his cane away, or make any attempt to leave, Belle pushed herself forward and met his lips with hers. He froze and Belle cursed herself for misreading the moment, before he melted into the kiss and curled his arm behind her back, underneath his own jacket. She happily let him pull her firmly against his chest, and her heart beat so fast in her ears that she thought it might burst.

This was exactly what she needed. His lips felt soft and warm and _familiar_ against her own, tugging at a forgotten memory at the back of her mind. It was the first thing she’d chosen to do for herself that felt right.

Colours and light began to dance in front of her eyes as she closed them, and slowly started to merge into odd images. She saw Mr Gold, but his eyes were different; inhuman and searching her face desperately. It filled her with a wave of sympathy, and then confusion and sadness.

She heard a faint sound; a whisper.

_Why did you come back?_

Distantly, as she parted her lips in a gasp that deepened the kiss, Belle heard another sound. It wasn’t until Mr Gold hurriedly pulled away and let go of her, that she realised it was a car pulling up.

The lost memories faded.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Gold?” Belle’s heart was still pounding, but now it was for a different reason.

“Dad.” She may have been much smaller than him, and shorter than Mr Gold, but she quickly put herself between both of them and held up her hands. “It’s okay.”

“Go inside, Lacey,” he ordered. Belle wanted to scream. She’d lost track of the number of times she’d told him not to call her that. She was _not_ this Lacey everyone kept going on about. “Belle,” he corrected after a moment.

“No,” she said stubbornly. “ _No_ , I’m staying right here until I’ve said goodnight to Rum--” What was she about to say? She had no idea how to finish that sentence, and she heard the click of a cane behind her as Mr Gold stepped forward.

“Belle--?”

“I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Moe interrupted.

“Then it seems we’re all spending the night out here,” Mr Gold said coldly. “Since I’m not leaving her alone with _you_.”

“You can’t stay here.”

“Uh, I can. I own the place.”

“You’re not staying here to get your claws into my daughter!”

“It’s not my claws she’s interested in.”

“Stop it!” Belle snapped at both of them. “I’m not a teenager anymore. You don’t get a say in who I spend my time with,” she told her dad, and then looked back at Mr Gold, whose amused smirk immediately disappeared. “And comments like that don’t help!”

This isn’t what she wanted or needed. Her head was filling with odd memories, memories that couldn’t have possibly been real. The last thing she needed was two of the most important people in her life arguing over her, and not one of them stopped to ask what she wanted to do.

“You can both stay out here. I’m going to bed,” she decided, with a confidence she really didn’t feel.

Uncomfortably aware of her dad closely watching her, Belle returned Mr Gold’s blazer to him and tried to muster a thankful smile.

“Goodnight, Mr Gold.”


	4. Hard to Find Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna say a quick thank you to Maplesyrup for beta'ing for me, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

**Storybrooke**

Sleep had been almost impossible after the way she’d left things with Mr Gold and her dad. When she did finally get some rest, Belle’s dreams were filled with images of a castle; a once grand castle that was now crumbling, and surrounded by the fires of war. Her dad had been there, in a room full of other men that she didn’t recognise.

Then _he_ showed up.

Mr Gold looked so different, and yet so familiar, in the same way he had when she’d kissed him. She saw large, reptilian eyes in place of brown ones when he turned to look at her. Then he pointed, with scaled, golden fingers tipped with black claws, and the men in the room were outraged.

She woke soon after, and spent the rest of the morning trying not to think about the strange, leather-clad version of Mr Gold. The images were so vivid and clear, that had they been set in Storybrooke she might have thought they were her real memories coming back. But Belle knew better than that. She was having a bad day. Every time she tried to reach for the memories that her dream and kiss with Mr Gold had brought up, they slipped through her fingers and faded. Then popped up again when she was trying to forget.

If she was going to figure out what was going on, she needed a distraction.

Belle showered and dressed herself in a powder blue summer dress. It was softer than what she usually wore, but she felt like making several changes to her wardrobe as she looked through it. These were Lacey’s clothes. She’d never be able to convince people that she’d changed if she kept wearing her old clothes.

As she turned to leave, a flash of silver caught her attention, and Belle looked at the mirror Mr Gold had gifted her. She picked it up, remembering with a smile how she’d felt when he’d told her she could have it.

“Why did he want me to have you?” she whispered to the mirror. It was old and far too expensive to just give away, especially to her. She hadn’t done anywhere near enough work to warrant such a fine gift.

Another memory came unbidden to mind, of those lizard-like hands holding out the mirror for her to take. The surprisingly soft skin of the creature’s hand brushed against hers, and the shock of it almost made her drop the mirror.

“That looks like an expensive gift.”

Jumping for a second time, Belle turned to see her father standing in the doorway of her room.

“You should have knocked,” she scolded, filled with the same annoyance she’d felt the night before. She knew why he was really there, and she hugged the mirror to her chest as if she could hide it from him.

“Did he give it to you?” Moe asked, ignoring her reprimand.

“Maybe,” Belle answered and lifted her chin. “Does it matter if he did?”

“You shouldn’t have accepted it,” her dad told her. “You’ll give him ideas.”

That only helped to build her frustration with him, and that was it. She had to get out of that house. It was her day off, she didn’t have to visit Mr Gold that day, but she’d rather be with him and away from the judgement of people who knew the old her.

“Lacey, please,” he said. “He’s a cruel man. He can’t be trusted.” Belle - she wasn’t Lacey - ignored him and looked back down at the mirror. She needed space to think. “ _Please_. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You can’t trust him, and you certainly shouldn’t accept gifts from him!”

“I’m going out.” Slipping the mirror under her pillow, Belle ushered her father out of her room and pulled the door shut.

“You can’t,” Moe insisted, and then winced when she rounded on him.

“I _can’t_?”

“I mean, you shouldn’t. Not like this. Where would you go?”

“That’s none of your business,” Belle said sternly, pulling on the same white cardigan she’d worn the night before. In truth, she only intended to go for a walk, maybe to get something to eat at Granny’s, but she really didn’t have to tell her father that. Especially when he was being so demanding.

“It is when he’s involved,” Moe continued, following her through the house as she searched for her phone. “You don’t know what he’s like. You don’t know what he really wants from you.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” Finally, she reached the front door, phone in hand, and turned to make sure that her dad wasn’t going to stop her from leaving. “I’ll be back later.”

With that, she slammed the door behind her and hurried away. Granny’s wasn’t that far away, and it was such a sunny morning, that even in her heels Belle decided she’d rather walk. It gave her time to think about the flashes of memory that were starting to come back to her. She didn’t know what they could mean, but she knew what she wanted. She wanted to ask Mr Gold about them.

She sent him a text as she walked into town. It was just a short message to ask him to meet her at Granny’s, and she hoped he wouldn’t want to avoid her after what happened the night before. That thought added another weight to the things she had to worry about. She hadn’t considered that he might not want to see her after how they’d left things.

Buzzing with nerves, Belle stepped into Granny’s diner and slipped into one of the booths farthest from the door. She checked her phone again, and even though there were no messages, she still wanted to be sure that she sat somewhere Mr Gold would easily find her.

Sitting and waiting for him made her all too aware of the curious eyes that kept turning to stare at her, or the hushed whispers of those sat nearby. She shifted in her seat, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself, and tried to shut them all out.

“Beauty and the Beast? Seriously?” A familiar voice asked, and Belle couldn’t ignore that. She looked up and spotted the newly-appointed Sheriff Swan sitting with her son. The boy - Henry? - and her were both sitting with matching hot chocolates, and he nodded easily at her question.

“She’s gotta be,” he reasoned. “I heard Mr Gold call her Belle.”

Her hand tightened on her phone at the mention of his name, and her own, and Belle glanced around the diner. Nobody else seemed to be taking any notice of the conversation between Emma and Henry, and even if she had wanted people to stop talking about her, she couldn’t help but lean a little closer to their table.

“Henry, that doesn’t mean--” Belle couldn’t hear what was said next. Emma whispered something, leaning closer to her son, but Henry only shrugged. He had the calm of a child who was sure of his own logic. Nothing Emma said would sway him from what he believed.

“She is,” Henry insisted, and took a sip of his hot chocolate. Emma sighed.

“So who's the Beast?”

Whatever Henry said was cut off by the tingling of the diner’s bell. Belle looked up at the sound as Mr Gold walked in, and a wave of relief washed over her. All of her worries vanished as she stood to greet him and he smiled at her.

"You've gotta be kidding me," she vaguely heard Emma mutter, and Belle filed what she’d just heard away for later.

“Hey,” she greeted Mr Gold as he limped closer. Neither of them seemed to know how to greet one another. Did they hug? Did they kiss again? A handshake was far too formal, but maybe… Steeling herself, Belle leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. His small smile in response assured her that she’d made the right choice.

“Miss French,” he greeted, and his smile only widened when she gave him her best attempt at a stern glare. “Belle. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting?”

She rolled her eyes at how formal he sounded and sat back down, signalling for him to join her.

“I haven’t even had a chance to order,” she answered as Mr Gold slipped into the seat opposite. He set his cane down and straightened the front of his suit, and Belle recognised the careful gestures for what they were. He was nervous.

“Then allow me,” he offered.

Mr Gold called Ruby over and ordered them both a sweet tea and pancakes. They drank sweet tea and coffee together in his shop often enough for him to already know her order, but Belle was surprised that he hadn't opted for his usual morning coffee. Perhaps he just felt like a change, she wondered.

It wasn't long before Ruby came back to their table. She skillfully balanced everything on a tray as she set down their drinks, and gave them each a plate piled with pancakes and syrup. It smelled sweet and delicious, making Belle realise just how hungry she really was.

“Thanks, Ruby,” Belle said, and Ruby returned her smile.

“No problem!” She was upbeat and friendly, but Belle noticed the furtive glance she gave to Mr Gold. “Do you want anything else, Lace?

She ignored the old nickname. Belle wondered instead if that was code for ‘do you want any _help_?’ and immediately shook her head.

“No, this is perfect.” She smiled at Mr Gold and then Ruby. “Thank you.”

Ruby hesitated before giving Belle an uncertain smile and leaving. Mr Gold didn’t seem to mind, he was probably used to everyone wanting to avoid him, but that didn’t make it right. To make a point, Belle reached across the table to hold his hand, and smiled at him when he gave her a questioning look.

“And thank _you_.” Belle beamed him. “I didn’t ask you here to buy me breakfast.”

“It’s nothing,” Mr Gold dismissed with a wave of his free hand. “I thought you’d want to talk about what happened last night.”

Belle wondered if he knew that his vague comment would give people something salacious to gossip about. Just the thought of it brought warmth to her cheeks, and she looked down to cut off her first bite of pancake, releasing his hand.

“I do,” she said quietly. “But not here. I actually wanted to talk to you about something else.” She wanted his company too, of course, but she didn’t particularly want to admit that whilst she was already blushing.

“I’m… I think my memories--” Belle tripped over the words, and her mouth suddenly grew dry. It wasn’t until she tried to say what was troubling her out loud that she realised just how crazy she would probably sound.

“Yes?” Mr Gold urged, and slipped his hand over hers. His palm was warm, and she was reminded of how soft the lizard-creature’s hand had been as he gave her the mirror.

Belle took a deep breath and a gulp of sweet tea to get rid of her sudden dryness. She could do this, she told herself. Mr Gold had never judged her before.

“I think my memories are coming back.” She spoke so quickly that the words tumbled over one another and ran together. “I mean, not exactly,” she quickly corrected, when she saw the flash of relief in his eyes. His care for her made her feel lighter. She could do this.

“They’re not really my memories, they’re… weird. I remember you, but you’re--” Belle took a deep breath. “Not you.”

Mr Gold stared at her over the steaming pancakes. Belle made herself take another bite. The sweet taste of the syrup was wonderful, and it gave her a brief distraction from the way he was looking at her. For once, she couldn’t read him.

“What do you mean?” His voice cracked, but he didn’t seem to notice. His fingers just tightened over hers, and Belle swallowed as she looked down to their clasped hands.

“In my memoires you look different. You’re you, but… different.”

“Belle?” he asked softly, and the lack of judgement or confusion in his voice made her look back up at him. That was when she recognised the look on his face. He wasn’t angry, and he didn’t think she was crazy. He was _hopeful_. “We’ll talk about this later. At my shop?”

The promise that he wanted to talk to her made her smile. She knew he didn’t want them to talk about something so personal somewhere so public, and she nodded her head to show she agreed.

No matter how much he wanted the people of Storybrooke to fear him, to think he was some cruel, cold-hearted beast, Belle knew that wasn’t really him. He could brush off his kindness towards her as ‘nothing’ all he wanted, but she knew he had a kind heart.

“Thank you,” she said shyly. “For listening to me.”

Knowing that, as always, he wouldn’t accept her thanks, Belle leaned forward. The eyes she’d felt on them since Mr Gold had entered the diner suddenly didn’t matter. She wanted to thank him properly. So she leaned over their food, grabbed his tie, and pulled him into a kiss.

 

* * *

 

**The Dark Castle**

Carrying the mop and heavy bucket of water up from the kitchens was one of the few jobs that Belle hadn’t got used to. She hadn’t been able to figure out a way to lift it up the stairs without the water splashing and soaking her skirts, leaving the stone stairs wet and slippery for when she came back. The only consolation was that the castle kept the water warm, so she only had to make the trip up once.

Feeling a mess before she’d even started her work for the day, Belle pushed her shoulder into the doors to the great hall and stepped inside. Rumplestiltskin was in there, which she hadn’t expected, but even more unexpectedly he wasn’t alone. The tall man she’d seen in Rumplestiltskin’s tower, still dressed in all black, stood beside him and sent her a smile.

“What’re you doing?” Rumplestiltskin demanded when he saw her struggling with the mop and bucket.

“What you asked me to do,” Belle retorted.

“I don’t remember asking you to break your back.”

“You asked me to _clean_ ,” she clarified, and he frowned as he looked back down at the heavy bucket. It was starting to hurt her arms.

“Should I leave you two alone again?” the stranger asked Rumplestiltskin conversationally. “Maybe I could light a few candles, set the mood?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rumplestiltskin scoffed, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.

“Well,” the stranger tipped his hat. “Far be it from me to stand between you and your maid,” he said wryly, stepping around Belle with a pleased smile. “Pardon me.”

“Close the door this time,” Rumplestiltskin called after him.

Belle looked to Rumplestiltskin, who didn’t look at all as put out by the visitor as she’d expected. If anything, whatever the man in the hat had been there for, it seemed to have left Rumplestiltskin in good spirits.

“Who is that?” she asked, finally putting down the bucket and flexing her hands.

“Oh, no one,” Rumplestiltskin dismissed. “Just a man who procures hard to find things.”

“No one who keeps visiting,” Belle pointed out, unsatisfied with his obscure reply. He gave her a look, but his happy mood seemed to be enough to win him over without Belle having to push him again for an answer.

“His name is Jefferson,” he said simply, and she nodded, satisfied. A name was more than she would have got out of him just a few months ago.

Curious, Belle abandoned her cleaning, stepping up to the long table. Rumplestiltskin stood at the far end of it, striking his usual pose of impish amusement, and watched her closely. She looked over the objects strewn across the tabletop. Some things were new, but some she recognised from the vast collection she’d spent weeks cleaning. Among the new things were boots, a cloak, and gloves. All of them were in the same deep red, with a grey fur lining.

“Travelling clothes aren’t hard to find,” Belle argued, and Rumplestiltskin laughed one of his high-pitched giggles, before something else occurred to her. “Are you going on a trip?”

“Of a sort,” he said, then pointed an accusing finger at her. “That doesn't mean you don't still have work to do.” He gestured around the room with a flip of his hands. “I expect this castle to be spotless when I return.”

“Of course.” If he caught the hint of amusement in her voice, he didn’t show it.

Rumplestiltskin started to root through all of the treasures scattered across the table, and triumphantly pulled out an object covered by a velvet cloth.  _His silver mirror_ , Bell realised. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled the blue cover from the mirror and dropped it to the floor.

“Come here.” He beckoned her closer, and Belle stepped forward without hesitation. He lifted a small, glass cup from the table that she hadn’t noticed was there. “ _This_ is what he procured.”

Giving the cup a little shake to indicate what he meant, Rumplestiltskin poured the watery contents over the mirror. It fizzed as it hit the glass, and when Belle came to stand close at his side, she saw the liquid sinking in and becoming part of the mirror.

“For you.” Without his usual flare, he handed the mirror to her. “If you want it.” He seemed unsure, as if she might reject it, but Belle smiled wide at him and accepted the gift with both hands.

“What was that?”

“A spell to protect secrets. With a little something extra to deflect unwanted eyes.” Rumplestiltskin explained, as if she should know what he was talking about. “Now you can gaze upon your beauty whenever you wish.” Belle froze at the compliment, but he didn’t seem to notice that he’d given her one. As if it was just a fact, and not something said simply to flatter her.

“Thank you,“ she said breathlessly. “What do you want in return?”

Obviously thrown by her question, Rumplestiltskin rubbed his fingers together and stepped away from her. She wasn’t sure if he was considering what she could give him, or if he really had no ideas. It became clear once he’d moved to the other side of the table, and ran his hands over the high travel boots in an attempt to look casual.

“You’ll be alone in the castle in my absence,” he told her. “Try not to raze it to the ground, or harm yourself with its magic. I should hate to come back and find you...” Rumplestiltskin faltered, and Belle held her breath. He was avoiding making a deal with her, was the first thing she realised, but the second was even more alarming. Was he worried about leaving her alone?

“Find me?” Belle prompted.

“Gone,” he snapped, like he couldn’t believe she was making him say the word. “It’s hard to find a maid who doesn’t cry. I’d hate to have to bargain for another.” He gave her a nasty grin and waved a finger at her. “So no trying to escape.”

“I won’t,” she said firmly. “I hadn’t even considered it.”

“Hm.” He didn’t look convinced.

Turning from him to hide her smile, Belle placed the mirror back onto the table to keep it safe while she worked, and made her way back to her mop and bucket.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Belle turned at the sound of his voice in her ear, and had something cold and leathery unceremoniously dumped in her arms. It was a pair of knee-high travel boots, similar in style to his red ones she’d spotted on the table, but these were slightly shorter and without the fur lining.

“For when you go trampling through the gardens,” Rumplestiltskin explained. “I don’t want you leaving muddy footprints all over my castle.”

He looked down at her feet and sniffed indignantly, as if only then considering her usual footwear. She was only wearing her silver slippers, the ones made to suit her blue dress while she worked. The ones for her golden dress had been ruined traipsing through the woods after Rumplestiltskin himself. The silver ones were the best she had.

“You shouldn’t wear those outside, anyway,” he decided, with an exaggerated wave at her feet.

“They’re all I have,” she said, and hugged her new boots tighter.

“Not anymore,” Rumplestiltskin corrected.


	5. A Strange Girl

**The Dark Castle**

She couldn’t find him. Belle had searched his tower workroom, the library, the great hall, even the gardens, and every unlocked room in between. She had no idea where Rumplestiltskin was.

All of the treasures that had been scattered across the long table, including his new travel clothes, had been moved at some point in the night. For a horrible moment, Belle wondered if he’d left without saying goodbye. If he had, she had no idea how long he’d be gone, where he’d gone to, or how long she’d be alone. It left her with an empty, sinking feeling.

With a sigh, Belle slipped the last of the books she’d borrowed back onto the shelf in the library. She already had a new pile of history books to take back to her room. These ones were mostly about Queen Regina’s realm, and although she’d never met the Queen, she remembered Rumplestiltskin’s snort of derision when she’d mentioned wanting to read them.

She picked up one of the tomes, and was just about to sink down into the armchair by the window, when a hand gripped her wrist.

“What are you doing?” Belle asked, a little proud of herself that she hadn’t screamed at his sudden appearance.

“Wondering what you’re reading,” Rumplestiltskin answered. The wrinkle of his nose told her he already knew exactly what she was about to read.

“It’s about Queen Regina’s realm,” she told him anyway, and bit back a giggle when he sighed in exasperation and released her. “You knew I wanted to read it.”

“I’d hoped you were joking,” he retorted. “Why don’t you read about your own home?”

“I already know about King George’s lands,” Belle said. “And I want to learn about the world beyond our little corner.”

“ _Our_ little corner?” Rumplestiltskin repeated.

“Well, here. Where we are right now.”

They fell silent for a moment, leaving Belle to wonder where he’d been all day and why he was only now appearing to her.

“Where have you been?” She dared to ask. Rumplestiltskin turned sharp eyes on her. Even now he seemed to assume a trap whenever she showed an interest in him. It turned Belle’s smile rueful.

“Preparing,” he answered simply. “For my trip.”

“I thought you travelled by magic?” Belle teased, trying to ease his tension.

“I do,” he said with a frown, and then narrowed his eyes at her. “Mostly. Sometimes I travel by horse and carriage. Other times I prefer boat, or bean, or hat.” She felt her smile widen as he teased her back, using his hands to mime all of the different ways to venture through the lands.

“Hat?” She repeated. “How do you travel by hat?”

“You spin it, of course,” Rumplestiltskin told her as though it should be obvious. A playful smile curved his lips, and Belle knew he was being deliberately vague. She wondered just how serious his answer was; if it really was possible to travel by hat. Belle tried to picture what a magical hat might look like, but no matter how many top hats, bowler hats and berets she came up with, she couldn’t imagine Rumplestiltskin owning any of them.

“I should like to see that,” she said honestly.

“Maybe you will one day,” he replied without thinking. Belle bit her lip and looked down at her new pile of books beside where they stood. His evermoving fingers traced the title of the top cover. _A History of the Lands: From the Magical to the Mundane._ His hand lingered over the word _mundane_.

“I suppose you’re leaving soon,” she said quietly.

“Eager to be rid of the beast?” Rumplestiltskin asked, and took the book about Regina from her hands. Belle rolled her eyes as he slipped it back onto the shelf. She’d take it back down after he’d gone.

“You know I’m not,” she soothed. “I just want to know how long I’ll be alone.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll be alone,” Belle repeated.

He frowned at her, his hands fidgeting at his sides, and then turned away.

“I leave tonight,” he conceded, speaking more to the room than to her. “And I’ll be gone for three days.” Rumplestiltskin spun around quickly and held up three fingers. He waggled the digits at her for good measure, and Belle laughed. He smiled back, pleasantly surprised that he'd made her laugh, until she reached out to hold his raised hand.

"Three days?" She echoed. "That's plenty of time to read some of these books. I'll at least get a chance to finish the one about the Queen."

"No you won't," Rumplestiltskin said sternly. It didn't really work to reprimand her when she could see the mirth twinkling in his eyes and a smile threatening to show on his face. "I don't want to see any dirt on my collection, or any dust in this library. Understood?"

"Understood." She nodded. "I'll clean it all after I've finished my reading."

"You'll clean it all before you read, and not a moment later."

Belle's smile broke through, and she felt a little brave with him standing so close to her and teasing her. She laced her fingers through his, his scaled skin surprisingly soft against her own, and stepped closer. Rumplestiltskin froze. There was a curious look of confusion and wonder on his face as he looked down at their joined hands, and then he tilted his head to search her face.

"I'll miss you," she told him seriously. He opened his mouth and then closed it. She was both surprised and relieved that he didn't try to let go of her hand, even if he did look like he had no idea what to do with it. "This place feels awfully empty without you here."

"Well," he said, and his voice was no longer the high pitch of the Dark One. It was deep and uncertain, and strangely human. "It is my castle. And I'm the only one in it with you." He looked down at their hands again. "Of course you'll feel lonely with no one here."

"I won't just feel lonely," she sighed. "I don't just want anyone's company. I want yours."

He turned his reptilian eyes on her, finally meeting her gaze, and they stared at one another as he leaned forward. It might have been unnerving to anyone else, to have Rumplestiltskin watching them so intently, but it wasn’t for Belle. She stood tall and met his eyes, and let him searching for whatever deception he thought he might find. He wouldn’t find any. Belle was never anything but sincere with him, whether he believed her or not.

“Strange girl,” he muttered.

“I thought I was an awfully brave girl?” Belle teased quietly.

“Oh, you are.” Rumplestiltskin straightened and showed his teeth in a wide, false grin. “Strange, awfully brave, and foolishly curious.”

“Thank you.” She dipped her head in a playful curtsy.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” he insisted, scowling at her but still holding her hand.

“It sounded like one.”

“It _wasn’t_.”

Biting her lip to hold back her grin, Belle finally took pity on him and released his hand. He stared down at his own palm, as though he couldn’t believe she’d touched it, and then waved it in a dramatic swoop in the air.

“I’ll take tea in the tower before I go,” he declared. Belle nodded, even though it meant abandoning her plan to spend the afternoon reading. “With you,” Rumplestiltskin added quickly, and Belle suddenly didn’t care at all about reading.

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll go and boil some water now.”

“Good.” He nodded and stepped out of her path. “Good idea. I’ll be...”

“In the tower?” Belle supplied.

“Yes. Exactly.” With a final, stiff nod, Rumplestiltskin took another step back and then froze. “And another thing,” he said, catching her attention before she could turn away from him. “Bring that hand mirror of yours.”

“Alright,” she said with a small bob of her head. “What do you need it for?”

“Wait and see,” he answered, a bright grin breaking out on his face. “I think you’ll like it.”

With a flourish of his hand, Rumplestiltskin disappeared in a plume of purple smoke, leaving Belle grinning to herself in the middle of the library.

 

* * *

 

**Storybrooke**

Working up the courage to tell Mr. Gold about her strange memories was a lot harder than Belle had expected. For a few reasons. The main one was that every time Belle tried to recall the memories of the beast or her father as a lord, they evaded her. She couldn’t remember them. It was in unsuspecting moments, when Mr. Gold smiled at her, or her father fussed over her doing something that he didn’t like, that the memories would tumble back and overwhelm her.

She’d left Granny’s diner with Mr. Gold once they’d finished their pancakes, her arm looped through his. The kiss in front of everyone had probably been a bad idea, but Belle had been far too happy to care. She’d even spotted the mayor as the two of them walked arm-in-arm down the main street.

Now those happy thoughts were overshadowed by a worry over how he’d react when she told him what the memories about him really were. Would he be angry? Worried? Mr. Gold had looked so hopeful when she’d told him she thought she was starting to remember. She doubted he’d want to hear about her delusions. There was only one other person from the diner that Belle thought she could talk to before Mr. Gold.

She felt out of place as she walked through the sparse park. She couldn’t remember spending any time there, and she doubted she ever had. The only place Lacey apparently spent any time in was the Rabbit Hole, or the back room of Mr. Gold’s shop. That thought made her stomach flip pleasantly, and she looked around desperately for something to distract her from her wandering thoughts.

It was still morning, but already there were children out with their friends and parents. They ran around, screaming and playing, whilst their guardians sat and talked together, or strolled down the path. Belle felt like the only one there who was alone, until she found the person she was looking for. He was sitting by himself on the lower bars of a climbing frame, and Belle felt immediate sympathy for him. Did he have no friends?

“Henry?” The sheriff’s son - and the mayor’s son - looked up at her with an uncertain smile. He seemed just as surprised to see her there as Belle herself was to be there. She really wasn’t sure this was a good idea.

“It’s Lacey, right?”

“Or Belle,” she corrected gently. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.” Henry returned her smile. “What do you wanna talk about?”

He scooted over on the climbing frame, and Belle hesitated for just a moment before she joined him. Her heels sank into the grass, and she tried to pull the hem of her skirt down a little lower as she balanced on the bars. She really needed to change Lacey’s wardrobe.

“I know this might sound strange, but--” She cleared her throat, hesitating. Belle really wished she’d thought through what she wanted to ask before going there.

“It’s okay,” Henry encouraged. “I’m used to strange.”

“You don’t mind talking to me?”

“‘Course not. You’re Belle,” he said with certainty, shrugging one shoulder. “You’re one of the good guys.”

“I think I’m--” She gripped the ladder beside herself to keep her upright. “I might have overheard you and Sheriff Swan talking yesterday. At Granny’s.”

Henry ducked his head, looking a little sheepish, if not slightly playful as well. “You did?”

“I did,” Belle said, matching his small smile. “What was it about?”

He lifted his head and looked at her, searching her face for something. Belle had no idea what he was looking for, but when he found it, Henry reached down into his schoolbag and pulled out a large book. She felt like she was being let in on a huge secret, the way he glanced around the park and leaned closer to her.

“It was about this book,” he whispered, and Belle nodded as she looked down at it. The title, in old, golden print, gave away what kind of storybook it was.

“Fairy tales?” She asked, and Henry nodded. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s more like a history book, in a way,” he tried to explain. Belle frowned, but Henry didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy quickly flicking through the old pages of his book, with the ease of a boy who’d read it often enough to know where to find each story.

“Here,” he said, drawing her attention to the page he’d been searching for. “This is your story.”

“ _My_ story?” She repeated as he handed her the book.

“Everyone in Storybrooke has their story in here. Yours is one of the most well-known.”

“But no one knows their own story?”

“No,” Henry sighed, dejected. “But they will.”

Belle flattened the pages, one of them full of the first words of the tale, and the other a large illustration of two people standing side-by-side. One of the figures was a woman a lot like herself. Short, with long brunette curls, she wore a beautiful golden gown and held her chin high. Beside her was the creature from her dreams. He stood with his clawed hand curled around her waist, and a devilish grin on his grey-gold face.

A flash of a memory hit her; an image of Mr. Gold - who wasn't quite Mr. Gold - leading her away from her father.

_It's forever, dearie._

Belle almost dropped the book in her hurry to stand.

"What is it?" Henry asked, scrambling to catch the storybook before it hit the ground. "Do you remember?"

"No," she answered, and then paused. "Yes?"

“Which is it?”

“I don’t know.” Breathing quickly, Belle turned to the boy and tried to smile. She didn’t want to scare or overwhelm him, but somehow Henry had figured it all out. He knew what had happened in the Enchanted Forest. He had it all written down.

“Are you sure no one else remembers?” Belle asked him, and Henry screwed up his face. He didn’t seem happy about her remembering.

“My mom does. I think Mr. Gold does and… Sheriff Graham knew,” he said quietly. “But she killed him.”

Belle’s heart sank. “She?”

“My mom,” Henry answered. “The Evil Queen.”

_The queen! Your friend the queen!_

Belle was starting to get a headache. She pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes, but it did nothing to push away the image of Rumplestiltskin shouting at her. Her head swam with too many memories at once, and Henry misread her discomfort for unease at the mention of Regina.

“You can’t let her know that you woke up,” he urged, quickly putting the book away. “Bad things happen if she knows the curse is breaking.”

_Any curse can be broken._

“I have to find Rumplestiltskin,” Belle said, already hurrying away. “Thank you, Henry.”

He shouted something after her, but her thoughts were too scattered for her to pay any attention to it. As quickly as her heels would allow, Belle hurried away from the park, to the main high street.

It was as though a dam had been blocking her real memories, holding them back. Kissing Rumplestiltskin had created a crack, and memories had began to trickle through until seeing them together in that book, then the whole dam had burst and everything came back to her in a great flood.

The Ogres War. Her father and mother. The Dark Castle. Rumplestiltskin and his spinning wheel. Being imprisoned. The Evil Queen had locked her up, in their world and this. She'd kept Belle from returning to Rumplestiltskin for decades.

Belle had to get back to him. They’d been kept apart for far too long, and now she could finally confront him as herself. It comforted her that the curse hadn’t caused her to completely forget him. Even without her memories, Belle had known they had a connection.

She thought about the other people in her life, and Lacey's life. Her father definitely didn't have his real memories. Not that he was really very different. She loved him, but Belle had to admit that he was still the same, controlling father he'd always been. Then there was Ruby. She was certain she'd never met Ruby in the Enchanted Forest, which meant Ruby was a friend of Lacey's. She didn't like that. It was hard to accept that their friendship was just the result of a curse. It felt so real.

Hurrying down the street, Belle recognised only a small number of people. Jefferson, Rumplestiltskin's sort-of-friend, was among them. They made eye contact, and he gave her a knowing smile and tilt of his head, before he was gone again. Lacey didn’t know him, which meant that Jefferson recognised her as _Belle_.

Just how many people were cursed, and how many had their own memories? And how many were like her, Belle wondered. Why had the Queen taken her memories but not replaced them, like she had with everyone else?

"Rumple!" Belle almost tripped into Mr. Gold's shop in her rush to get to him, loudly ringing the poor little bell.

“Miss French?”

Her heart dropped. The adrenaline that the flood of memories had given her vanished, as Belle came face-to-face with the mayor - the _Queen_.

“You’re in an awful hurry,” she commented.

“I’m late for work,” Belle lied, and winced at how shaky her voice had sounded. Regina’s lips quirked in a pleasant smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. They were sharp, almost narrowed, as she looked Belle up and down. Did she know?

“Don’t tell me you’re so eager to work with Gold?” Belle frowned, and it only helped to make Regina smile even more. “Oh, that’s right. I heard about your little display in Granny’s yesterday.” Her smile dropped. “Did you think I wouldn’t know?”

“Know what?” Belle asked, feigning confusion. “Where’s Mr. Gold?” She wanted to dash into the back room, but Regina would easily be able to grab her or stop her. The Queen leaned back onto the front counter, in such a way that was almost too casual. She was ready for Belle to make a move, she realised.

“I think I saw him going to Granny’s,” Regina said with an air of disinterest. “I thought I’d catch you while he was out.”

“Me?” Belle took a step back and Regina pushed herself off the counter. “Why me?”

“Do you think I don’t know when someone speaks to my son?” She asked, her calm beginning to slip. Belle only just stopped herself from pointing out that Regina rarely knew when Henry was with Emma. “I have eyes and ears everywhere in this town, Miss French,” she finished smugly.

“He was sitting alone,” Belle said. “All of the other kids were playing, and Henry was on his own. Should I have ignored him?”

Anger flashed in Regina’s eyes, and she marched into the middle of the room, pointing an accusing finger.

“Enough. I know you’re awake, you insipid little bookworm. And if you’re awake then Gold is, too.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please. You can’t tell me you’re really loyal to a man who kept you as his maid?”

“Why does it matter to you?” Belle snapped.

“Because otherwise,” Regina frowned, “All of this was for nothing, and I--” She stopped herself, took a deep breath, and smiled. “And I can’t allow that.”

Belle took a step back towards the door, but the Queen only closed the gap between them again.

Her nerves were on edge, her heart was pounding, and all Belle wanted to do was run to Rumplestiltskin. She didn’t know how much magic was in this land, but she was certain that Rumple would be able to protect her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Belle repeated as steadily as she could manage, and it wasn’t a lie. She may have remembered the truth about the Enchanted Forest, and who her and Rumplestiltskin really were, but she had no idea what Regina had done to take them to this new land. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to see Mr. Gold.”

“I’m sure,” the Queen drawled. She reached into her pocket and pulled something out. “I think you dropped this.”

“No, I didn’t,” Belle said firmly. Accepting anything from the Queen would be foolish, especially when Belle knew she hadn’t dropped anything. Her skirt didn’t have any pockets. “That’s not mine.”

“Wait,” Regina insisted, and held up the small card in her hand. Belle recognised the logo for the Rabbit Hole on it, and knew it definitely wasn’t hers. It couldn’t be. Could it?

“Just look at it, Lacey. I think you’ll remember where it came from.”


	6. True As It Can Be

******Storybrooke**

The pounding at the door mirrored the pounding in her head. She awoke with a groan, pressing her hand against her eyes to shield them against the bright afternoon sun. She must have left the curtains open the night before, because the sun shined in merrily and unbidden across her bed.

" _Fuck_." What the hell had she been drinking? She felt like she'd ran into a wall headfirst.

Maybe she had hit her head, she realised. Her memory of the day before was hazy, but she could clearly remember the last few weeks, and her life _before_ going into the hospital.

Lacey jumped up, and then immediately regretted it. Her head swam and she was about to lie back down, when the incessant knocking at the door started again.

In a hurry, she grabbed her lace underwear from the floor, slipped a long blue shirt over it, and tied her hair up in a messy bun. Her appearance was the last thing she cared about when her head hurt so much. Whoever was at the door would just have to deal with it.

"I'm coming!" She shouted at the door, like it was its fault, as she hurried down the stairs.

She didn't know who she'd been expecting, they rarely got visitors, but she was surprised when she opened the door and saw Gold standing there. She suddenly wished she'd made more of an effort not to look how she felt; terrible.

"Gold," Lacey greeted, unable to hide her surprise at finding him there.

"Miss French," he returned.

"Are you here for my father?" Mr. Gold didn't answer. His expression, a faint smile, barely changed as he watched her, save for a very faint frown at her question. "I thought rent day was tomorrow," she added.

"No," he said slowly. "I'm here to see you. You didn't turn up for work and I..."

"What?"

Lacey tried not to shuffle as he looked her up and down. His eyes trailed over her whole body, as if seeing her for the first time, and something in him seemed to change.

"Lacey?" He asked cautiously.

“Oh, yeah.” She had no idea why she still sounded so shocked. He’d been so attentive to her recently, she should have known Gold would immediately spot the change in her. Lacey smiled at him. "See? I said my memories were coming back."

Mr. Gold's jaw set, and Lacey wondered what she'd done to offend him. He straightened up, ground his cane into the welcome matt beneath his feet, and gave a slight nod as if suddenly deciding something.

"Are you aware that your father asked for a loan, Miss French?" He asked calmly. Lacey frowned.

"He might've mentioned it. I don't know. Why?"

"It's almost time for him to pay me back. And, as you said, tomorrow is rent day." He paused for effect, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm going to go out on a limb and assume, given your father's past record of keeping up-to-date on his payments, that he doesn't have my money yet?"

Lacey bit her lip. He was right, and they both knew it.

"How much will he owe?"

"Well." He gave her a grin, one that showed a flash of his gold tooth. "Let’s just say it’s more than triple figures. He knows what he owes me."

"Are you serious?" Lacey blurted out, and then clamped her mouth shut. A twitch of a smile appeared on his lips, and Lacey frowned. Was this his way of teasing her? He'd been so nice to her recently, why would he suddenly change now?

"There's no way he'll have enough for both," she thought out loud. She needed a serious word with her dad. What the hell had he been thinking, accepting a loan from Gold?

"A pity," Gold said dryly. "I'd hoped you'd offer, I don't know... A way to help him."

"Me?" She repeated. "I work for you, Gold. You know exactly how much I make."

"Indeed. And it would be rather counterproductive for me to give you money, only for you to hand it back to me."

"Exactly," Lacey agreed, before his meaning hit her.

Her stomach flipped as she remembered what they used to be to one another. She'd been so sure they'd had a connection, and now that she could remember their relationship from before her trip to the hospital, Lacey wasn't sure why she'd felt so strongly that they'd been _something_. She'd flirt whenever he came to collect the rent, and he'd invite her back to his shop. Into the back room. It wasn’t quite the connection she’d imagined them having without her memories.

"Miss French?" Gold asked, amused. "You're staring."

"He won't be able to pay what he owes you," she said firmly, ignoring the heat in her cheeks. "And neither will I."

"Oh dear," he drawled. "Then he'll be in my debt. And what he owes me will only increase."

"How long does he have?"

"Until the thirteenth. The day before Valentine's day. Unless we can come to an arrangement before then." Gold smiled and leaned towards her, in such a slight movement that she might have missed it if it wasn't for the click of his cane between them. "Do you have any ideas, Miss French?"

Lacey held her breath, unsure of what to say. She must have been jumping to conclusions. Maybe her feelings towards him over the last few months were influencing her poor judgement now. The flipping feeling in her stomach turned into the flutter of butterflies, and Lacey's blush spread down to her neck.

No, she thought adamantly. She would not give him the satisfaction of her being the one to suggest anything like _that_.

"I could work more hours?" She offered instead, and Gold's amusement only seemed to grow. Had this been a test?

"Perhaps," he said, quietly impressed. "I'll close the shop at five today. We can talk after."

"Where?" Lacey asked, gripping the front door. “Should I meet you at your shop?”

"No. No, I’ll come to you."

She nodded, at a loss for what else to say, and heard the back door open and close. It seemed her day was about to get a lot more tense.

“My dad’s back,” she told him in a hushed voice, and Gold nodded. He seemed to understand that was his cue to leave, and gave her one final smirk.

“I’ll see you later, Miss French.”

“Later,” Lacey agreed, and closed the door on him just as he dad entered the hall behind her.

“Who was that?” Moe demanded.

Taking a deep breath, and hoping that her blush had faded somewhat since Gold had stopped teasing her, Lacey turned to him with a shrug and tired smile.

“Ruby,” she lied.

“That waitress from Granny’s?” Her dad didn’t sound convinced, but she’d started the lie now, she might as well go with it.

“That’s the one,” she said, stepping around him to go back upstairs.

“Really?” Her dad asked skeptically. “It sounded more like a man.”

“I won’t tell her you said that,” Lacey called back down, and was almost at the top of the stairs when her dad shouted after her.

“It was Gold, wasn’t it?”

She sighed and stopped midstep.

“You answered the door to Gold dressed like _that_?”

Lacey rounded on him, scowling. Her head hurt too much to start another argument with her dad about who she spent her time with. It wasn’t any of his business, especially when Gold had been there about _his_ potential debt, not hers.

“Like what?” She challenged.

“You’re half naked!” Moe snapped back, and the pleasant warmth of her blush turned into the burn of anger.

“He didn’t seem to mind!” She shouted back before she could stop herself. “He’s seen a lot more than this.”

Lacey regretted that the moment she said it, but the red flush of her dad’s face made it worth it. He had no right to judge her for how she dressed, or to judge Gold. At least Mr. Gold hadn’t insulted her appearance. In truth, she was sure he hadn’t noticed what a mess she must have looked. He was more concerned about his money.

“You stupid girl!” He bellowed, and Lacey turned and ran to her room before he could chase her. He’d looked like he was torn between yelling at her or going after Gold, and Lacey didn’t want to see which he picked. She was certain Gold could defend himself, but she didn’t have it in her to get into an argument with her dad. Not until her head was better, anyway.

Locking herself in her room, Lacey got undressed and did her hair while Moe shouted at her through her door. He demanded that she open it, told her again that she was stupid, and made sure she knew that Mr. Gold was only using her. He’d grow tired of her.

“You don’t know that!” Lacey shouted back as she rummaged through her wardrobe for something to wear. It was a great distraction now that her memories were back and she actually wanted to wear her own clothes again.

“Don’t I?” Her father snapped from behind the door. Lacey knew a part of him _wanted_ to hurt her, he wanted to scare her away from Gold, but that didn’t stop her from listening when he continued with, “He’ll use you, I know that much. He’ll take what he wants and leave you with nothing. If he hasn’t already.”

Lacey tried to ignore him after that, as she made herself a little more presentable to go out. It wasn’t until she picked up the hand mirror that Gold had given to her, to do her makeup, that Lacey felt the prick of tears in her eyes.

What if her dad was right? Gold had definitely been different with her after she answered the door. It was a big change after weeks of him being caring and amiable with her. Maybe that was only because she’d been in hospital. It could have all been done out of pity, and now all of his compassion had ran out.

It took her some time to calm herself down and push away those thoughts. He wouldn’t have agreed to see her later if he was tired of her. She just had to keep reminding herself of that.

Lacey didn’t leave her room until she heard her dad slam the front door. She’d been dressed and ready to go out for well over an hour before that happened, and she felt a wave of relief when he left the house. Relaxing, Lacey slipped on her heels, shoved some clean clothes and her mirror into a duffle bag, and hurriedly made her way to Granny’s diner.

A chill breeze hit her as she walked outside, sending a shiver through her, but she didn’t want to go back in now that she was finally free. It was the first time in weeks that she actually felt comfortable in her own clothes, and she intended to show off the gold sequin dress she hadn’t had a chance to wear yet.

Granny’s diner was packed when she got there, with people eating and ordering their lunch before they had to get back to work. Lacey hadn’t been back since her soft-of-date with Gold, and she felt people turn to look at her as she entered, but she wouldn’t let that deter her. She had nothing to be ashamed of. The voice of doubt, that sounded a lot like her father, kept gnawing away at her - telling her that Gold would get bored of her and everyone knew it - but she tried to ignore it.

She lifted her chin, put on a bright smile, and walked straight to the bar.

“Lacey!” Ruby greeted cheerfully when she spotted her. “Just give me a second.”

She watched quietly as Ruby rushed around, serving and taking orders. It gave her an unwanted moment to think about what had happened over the past weeks, until Ruby came back and leaned over the counter.

“Can I get you anything?” She smiled and Lacey groaned.

“How about a drink?”

“That bad, huh?” Ruby’s smile turned to a concerned frown, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I might have just moved out,” Lacey answered hopelessly.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Ruby’s smile was suddenly back, brighter than before, and she nodded towards the clock on the far wall. “I finish at five. Give me a chance to freshen up, and I’ll meet you at the Rabbit Hole?”

Gold closed his shop at five, a pesky voice reminded her. It made Lacey even more certain that she needed to go out and distract herself. She didn’t need to be thinking about his promise to come and find her, or her certainty that he was growing bored of her.

“That sounds great,” Lacey agreed. “Meet me at seven?”

“Seven it is. Now,” Ruby waved her hand for Lacey to follow her, “You need a room.”

Waiting for seven to roll by seemed to take more than the few hours it really was. Lacey stayed in the quaint little room at Granny’s, putting off going back home or to Gold’s shop, until she couldn’t wait any longer. She got to the Rabbit Hole a little before seven, and by the time Ruby arrived Lacey had already made a start on drinking. She had two shots each waiting for them, and Ruby slid into the booth to sit opposite her.

“Wow, are we drinking to celebrate or to forget?” Ruby asked, looking her up and down. Lacey may not have had a drink in a while, but she was sure she couldn’t be drunk already. She didn’t know what Ruby was looking at.

“Does there have to be a reason?” Lacey asked with her best attempt at a smile.

Ruby started to shake her head, but then she seemed to realise something and frowned.

“Is this about Gold?”

"Why is everyone so obsessed with me and Gold?" Lacey shot back, ignoring the sympathetic way Ruby smiled and tilted her head.

"He's the scariest guy in town,” she said, as if that explained everything. “And filthy rich. People are naturally curious."

"People like you?" Lacey asked with a knowing smile.

Ruby gave a little shrug, smiling playfully. “I can’t help it if people are curious about your sugar daddy.”

“He is _not_ \--!” She stopped when she noticed several people turning to look at her, and lowered her voice. “He’s not my anything.”

“You sure about that?”

"This isn't about Gold,” Lacey assured her, changing the subject. She tried to make the words sound convincing to herself, but Ruby didn’t look satisfied with her reply. “Nothing’s going on. This is about me wanting to have a drink." She leaned across and set two shot glasses in front of Ruby. “With my friend.”

Lacey threw her shots back in quick succession, aware that Ruby was still watching her, and winced against the burn at the back of her throat. This was what she needed, she told herself. It was who she was, and who everyone had kept telling her she should be. Apart from Mr. Gold. And even Ruby was looking at her as if she didn’t recognise her.

Something still wasn’t right. She’d hoped the feeling would go away once she got her memories back, but the tug of something at the back of her mind had only become worse.

“Do you ever feel like you’re missing something?” Lacey asked.

Ruby arched her brows in surprise, but at least seemed to consider the question before she answered her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like...” Lacey rubbed her temples. Something was _off_ , and she needed a way of asking without Ruby thinking she needed to be back in the hospital. “How long have you lived in Storybrooke?”

“Oh, um.” Ruby hummed in thought and then shook her head. _She doesn’t know_ , Lacey realised. “ _Years_. A lot longer than I ever wanted to stay here.”

“It feels like forever, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Ruby said.

Lacey puffed out a sigh and leaned back. Gold had asked her how much she remembered, and he’d seemed to understand her lack of memory. Maybe it wasn’t just her that couldn’t remember things.

“I don’t remember how long I was in the hospital,” Lacey admitted in a hushed voice, and Ruby’s eyes widened with concern. Not judgement, Lacey was relieved to see. Her friend didn’t look like she thought she should be locked away.

“Lace,” Ruby whispered, and put her hand over hers. The sympathy gave her the courage she needed to voice her worries.

“And the one thing I was sure of, just--” Lacey cut herself off, staring down at her empty glasses, and realised that she wasn’t ready to say _his_ name again. “Now I’m doubting it,” she said. “My head’s a fucking mess.”

“No it’s not,” Ruby said firmly, squeezing her hand. “But we’re obviously drinking to forget, so.” With a bright smile, Ruby collected the glasses and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

Lacey watched her disappear into the crowd around bar. She felt a little lighter for admitting some of her troubles, but there was a lot more that she couldn’t bring herself to tell Ruby. Namely, the confused feelings she’d started to develop for her boss, and the certainty that he was getting bored of her.

“Hey.” The voice of a man cut through her thoughts, and Lacey looked from the crowd to see a man sitting in Ruby’s seat. “I’ve not seen you in here for a while.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to remember why I stopped coming,” she said, and looked back to the bar. Lacey vaguely recognised the guy. He was tall, English, and had a leering look in his eyes that had always made her uncomfortable.

“Oh, come on,” he teased. “How about you let me buy you a drink?”

“No, I’m good,” Lacey insisted with a tight smile.

“One drink can’t hurt, can it?” He pushed, and her patience slipped.

“Are you stupid?” She asked. “I’m not interested.”

“There’s no need to be a bitch about it,” he spat back, but made no move to get out of Ruby’s seat. So Lacey stood up herself. She’d find somewhere else to sit if she had to, as long as it took her away from the creep. But he stood with her and grabbed her wrist, squeezing it so tight that she was bound to have a bruise when he released her.

“ _Let me go_.” Lacey tried to wrench her arm free of his grip, but he held her tighter and a pain shot up her arm. She bit back a hiss and kept trying to free herself until it was clear she couldn’t get away unless he decided to let go.

“Guess it’s true what they’re saying about you and Gold,” he taunted, and in one sharp tug, he pulled Lacey against his chest. The pain made her feel dizzy and sick. Or maybe that was thanks to the shots. She didn’t care at that point, she just wanted to get away. “Should’ve known you’d throw yourself at the richest guy in town.”

With tears beginning to sting her eyes, Lacey opened her mouth to shout at him but was cut off by the guy’s sudden cry of pain. He released her immediately and fell to the ground, cradling his knee in both hands. She heard a tutting beside her, and caught the glint of a golden cane handle, as Gold turned it around and leaned against it. He must have hit the man - _Keith_ , she suddenly remembered - in the back of the knee, Lacey realised with satisfaction.

“You really ought to be more careful,” Gold said dryly.

“You hit me!” Keith complained, and he sounded pitiful. Lacey almost wished Gold would hit him again, especially when she put her hand to her tender wrist and winced. It was definitely starting to bruise.

“Did I?” Gold arched an eyebrow, looking nothing but bored with the conversation already, but Lacey knew him. She could feel the anger coming off Gold in waves, and she should not have found him as attractive as she did in that moment.

In a move that she would definitely blame the shots for later, Lacey linked her arm through Mr. Gold’s and leaned into his side. He looked down at her in surprise at first, then gave her a dark smile and lifted his cane. Keith flinched.

“The lady said she isn’t interested. So I suggest you get up--” Gold slammed the head of the cane down on what had been her table, making everyone around them jump, but none of them were as afraid as Keith clearly was. “--And get out.”

Keith couldn’t get to his feet fast enough. He slipped and stumbled on his injured leg, but in a moment he was gone and pushing his way out of the door.

“Don’t tell me,” Ruby said, snapping Lacey out of the daze she’d slipped into. “You two are gonna leave together?”

 

* * *

 

**The Dark Castle**

As soon as the water was boiled, and the china, milk and sugar were set out on a tray, Belle took it all up to Rumplestiltskin’s tower. The door opened without her having to knock, and the candles lit her way up the winding staircase until she reached the top.

Unlike the other times she’d visited him, Rumplestiltskin was sat waiting for her. He stood from his perch by the window, and with an effortless wave of his hand cleared a mess of vials and pots from his workbench.

“Thank you,” Belle said as she set the tray down. “I brought that mirror, too. Is it-- Oh.” Rumplestiltskin snatched it from the tray before she had a chance to hand it to him. “Is there something wrong with the magic?”

“Not at all,” Rumplestiltskin answered absently. He twirled the mirror in his hands and turned away from her, watching how the fading daylight danced across the ornate thorns and roses on the back. “It’s quite powerful, but there’s something missing.”

“What?” Belle followed him, and tried to peek over his shoulder as he pulled a familiar glass vial from his shelf of glowing spells. “Your truth spell?”

“The very same.”

Sensing how close she was, and probably knowing how curious she’d be to see his magic, Rumplestiltskin turned to face her. He gave her a little smile, making sure that she was watching, and then let a single drop of the golden liquid fall onto the glass. It sat, stagnant for a moment, and then the blob began to web outwards towards the frame. The mirror looked as though it was full of golden cracks, before the liquid soaked into the glass and faded from sight.

"For you," Rumplestiltskin said with a dramatic bow. "So that you may see the truth."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see. All you have to do," he answered patiently, "Is ask it a _question_." He put emphasis on the final word as he held the mirror out with both hands. Belle took it from him, and tried to ignore the feel of his fingers brushing against her own, or the way his hands lingered in the air for a moment before he dropped them.

"What sort of question?" She asked, looking into the glass. She could see herself clearly, but as she tilted the mirror, a ripple went across it, as if she was disturbing the surface of a still lake.

"Don't ask me the question. Ask _it_."

Belle tried to frown at him, but Rumplestiltskin was practically buzzing with excitement and a feeling that she’d come to realise was the hum of magic. For whatever reason, he was eager to see whether the mirror worked or not.

Peering back down into the oval-shaped glass, Belle held the handle tight between both hands and tried to think of a question. She felt more than a little ridiculous staring at her own reflection, with Rumplestiltskin watching her expectantly. At least having him stand so close gave her an idea of a question she could ask; just to test the magic.

“Where is Rumplestiltskin’s wheel?” She paused. “Thank you.”

Her face in the glass began to wobble and distort, and in a swirl of blues and golds, the mirror showed her an image of the great hall, with the large spinning wheel sat in the corner. Rumplestiltskin clapped his hands at the small feet of magic, and Belle turned to him with a bright smile to match his own.

“You could see anywhere in the world with this,” she pointed out, but he waved his hands at her and shook his head.

“Oh, it’s not for that.”

“Then what is it for?”

“To show you the truth,” Rumplestiltskin repeated, turning back to their forgotten tray of tea. “You’ll understand when the time comes.”

Belle heard the clinking of china cups and the teapot behind her, but her attention was caught on the mirror. She lightly tapped on the glass with her fingertip, and the surface rippled out, warping her face. When the glass cleared and settled again, she saw Rumplestiltskin peering over her shoulder and almost jumped.

His breath tickled her neck as he reached around her waist and curled his hand around hers on the mirror's handle. Belle held her breath as he held her gaze in the glass.

"Do you like it?" He asked in a low murmur, and Belle felt a warmth rush down through her body. She didn't trust herself to speak, and could only manage a weak nod in answer, but Rumplestiltskin didn't seem to mind her quiet. He smiled and took another step closer, pressing his chest to her back, and lifted the mirror a little higher.

"Ask it another question," he prompted. His voice sounded deeper than it normally did, and the rumble of it next to her ear brought a rush of red colour to Belle's cheeks.

"What should I ask?" She whispered. "I'm not sure there's anything I want to know."

"Really?" Belle felt his hand rest lightly on her hip and her breathing quickened. "Not one thing?"

"No," she said unsteadily. "I trust you to tell me the truth, without the use of magic."

Rumplestiltskin stopped. His inhuman eyes flicked up to meet hers again in the mirror, and her certainty seemed to make him uncertain. He hesitated, his warm hand pressing a little harder against her hip, and then he was gone. As quickly as he'd appeared behind her, Rumplestiltskin had taken a step or two back and was holding his chipped cup.

"You ought to practice with it," he told her. “Get into the habit of asking it a question whenever you hold it.” Belle missed his closeness already, and the deep rumble of his voice in her ear. He sounded like his impish self again.

Clutching the mirror to her body, she turned around to face him and nodded.

"I shall," she promised. "While you're gone. I'm sure I'll think of something to ask it."

"I'm sure you will," he parroted with a wrinkle of his nose. The teasing made her smile and broke whatever the tension was that had built between them. She felt very flushed.

"It should keep you away from this room. You're not allowed in here whilst I'm away. Not when I can't keep an eye on you."

"Right," Belle agreed easily, and put her mirror down to take up her tea. "I'd have no reason to come up here anyway."

"Not even to snoop?"

"Not even then," she assured him, smiling into her teacup. "I only come up here to see you."

Both of them peered at each other over the rims of their cups, and Belle had the sneaking suspicion that they were both trying to hide smiles from one another.

Clearing his throat, Rumplestiltskin turned away and carefully set his cup down. He'd drank almost all of his tea, Belle saw, and she'd barely had more than a couple of sips of her own.

"Then I shall see you in three days," he reminded, but didn't go anywhere.

"I'll try to do as much cleaning as I do reading," Belle said, hoping it would make him look back at her. It did. He half-turned, looking at her from the corner of his eye, and gave her a small smile.

"I certainly hope not," Rumplestiltskin said with false sternness. "I know how much you read, dearie. There's not that much cleaning to be done."

Belle laughed, but his own smile was hesitant as he turned to face her fully.

"Then the castle shall be spotless," she determined, and Rumplestiltskin's smile widened.

"I'll hold you to that," he told her quietly. "In three days." His fingers fluttered in the space between them, and for a moment she wondered if he was going to reach out to touch her. But the moment past. Instead, Rumplestiltskin gave her a low bow, and disappeared in a puff of magic as Belle dipped to curtsy.


	7. Ask The Mirror

******The Dark Castle**

On more than one occasion, Belle had been tempted to ask the mirror where Rumplestiltskin had gone. She'd come very close to doing so on the second day of his absence, but reminded herself that she had to trust him. His business was not her own. Not unless he chose to share it with her.

Instead, Belle had busied herself with other things. She used her new boots to walk around the garden. She read, and cleaned more of Rumplestiltskin’s unusual collection, and then gave in to the temptation of the mirror. She asked it to show her the places in Regina's realm that she'd read about, and then she wanted to see her homeland, and the Enchanted Forest. She asked to see place-after-place until the joy and wonder of seeing them through the mirror became bittersweet.

She'd never see them in person, Belle realised, and set the mirror aside.

By the third day, she was completely restless. She'd done her usual cleaning duties, and she'd started a new book. It was a fiction, about a small town hidden away in a dense forest, that no one knew about. Belle sat by the warm oven in the kitchen, and was three chapters into the story when she heard it.

A great crash of metal came from up in the great hall, and she jumped to her feet, forgetting her book in her haste to get up the stairs. When she reached the top of the stairs, she saw Rumplestiltskin with his back to her.

The long table was, once again, a mess. Part of an old suit of armour was scattered across it, and he held up a sword. The handle was golden and adorned with a brilliant, swirling pattern. It was more impressive than the blade itself, which Rumplestiltskin was testing the sharpness of with a scaled thumb.

“That’s a wonderfully crafted sword,” she commented, and he whirled around to face her.

His surprise, which she tried her best not to smile at, quickly faded when he saw her standing in the doorway. He cut the sword through the air and struck a pose, as if readying to duel her.

“Herugrim.”

“Excuse me?” Belle stepped closer to him, and he lowered the blade. With the point to the ground, he lifted the gilded handle for her to see it better.

“That’s its name,” Rumplestiltskin told her. “And worth every bit of the magic it cost.”

Carefully, Belle lifted her hand to run her fingertips over the ornate pattern worked into the golden handle. Whoever had made it, had shaped the metal to look like two horses facing one another. She could feel his eyes on her as she inspected it, and both of them pulled their hands away at the same time when she looked back up at him.

“Where have you been?” She chanced, doubtful that he’d actually tell her.

“To a land far, far away,” Rumplestiltskin said, and waved his hand to indicate something in the distance. “Not too far from Camelot.”

Well, that was more than she’d expected him to tell her, but it was no less vague.

“You know,” she said carefully, turning her attention to the dismantled armour behind him. “I could just ask the mirror you gave me.”

Rumplestiltskin paused, watching her curiously. He hadn’t thought of that, she realised.

“Have you?” He asked.

“No,” she admitted. “Your travels are your business. But I _could_ if I wanted to.”

“Well, that is what it’s for.”

“I could ask it all sorts of things.”

“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin said slowly.

Belle held her hands behind her back, looking around the room as if him and his newly acquired treasures weren’t fascinating to her, but she could still see him through the corner of her eye. He tilted his head and frowned at her, trying to work out just how serious she was.

“I practiced whilst you were away,” she told him innocently.

“Indeed?”

“Oh, yes.” Belle couldn’t hold back her teasing grin any longer, and looked back up at Rumplestiltskin. His own lips twitched upwards in a hesitant smile, like he was trying to hold it back but couldn’t. “I’ve been all over the world without leaving the castle.” That made him smile. No doubt he was pleased that she’d been more curious about the rest of the world than she was of spying on him.

“And the gardens?” He asked, making Belle frown.

“The gardens?”

“Have you been outside?” Rumplestiltskin clarified.

“I have,” she said with a nod. He’d seemed almost concerned that she might not have been outside at all, until she told him that she had and his shoulders relaxed. “And I used the boots you gave me." she let him know. "You give very good gifts, Rumple."

He stood a little taller at her praise and bowed his head.

"Although," Belle continued thoughtfully. "I think the boots are more practical. I don't really know what to do with that mirror."

"You will," Rumplestiltskin promised. "When the time comes, you'll find it far more useful than a pair of boots."

She doubted that, but he looked so certain of what he said, that Belle let it drop.

"Well, right now I wish to use my boots," she said brightly. "Will you walk with me outside?"

He wavered, glancing towards the open windows, and the bright light that shined into the great hall. Then he nodded. With a sweep of his hand, Rumplestiltskin made his new sword disappear, and grabbed hold of both her hands. Belle gasped at the sudden touch, and felt a pulse of magic flow over her like a breeze.

The light stroke of magic left her feeling heavier and warmer, and when she looked down between them, she saw her slippers were replaced by the snug leather boots, and her dress was covered by her travel cloak.

Belle smiled up at him, and Rumplestiltskin smiled back, until he realised just how close they were standing and released her.

"Having your clothes changed by magic can be a little... unsettling the first time," he tried to explain, flexing his fingers as if he didn't know what to do with them now that he'd let go of her. "I wouldn't want you falling flat on your face."

"That’s very thoughtful of you," Belle nodded, and reached out to hold one of his hands again. He looked down at her touch, as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing, and then gripped her hand back.

"Come on then." Tugging gently, she led Rumplestiltskin towards the double doors of the great hall, and the garden outside his castle.

"You can tell me a story about your travels," she decided, teasing him. "I stopped reading a very good book for this."

"Really?" He asked, and Belle looked up to see amusement dancing in Rumplestiltskin's eyes. "Then I better tell you a very good tale."

 

* * *

 

**Storybrooke**

Ruby didn’t seem at all surprised when Lacey told her she was leaving with Gold. She didn’t know if that was because she understood her wanting to get out of there after what had happened, or because she thought she wanted to be alone with him.

He walked out with her in silence. Neither of them had said anything to each other since his appearance, but as soon as they were outside, Gold lightly held her arm and turned her to face him.

“Are you alright?” His concern made her feel worse.

“I’m fine,” she said shortly, hugging her arms around her waist. “I just wanna get out of here.”

“Of course.” Gold nodded and glanced down the street. “Would you like me to walk you home?”

“I’m not going back there,” Lacey told him with no intentions of explaining why. “I’m staying in a room at Granny’s.”

“Then at least let me walk you there,” he insisted.

Lacey looked up at him. Even in the dark, lit only by the streetlamp, Lacey could clearly see the glint of worry in his eyes. It seemed so genuine, that for just a moment she started to doubt what her father had told her. How could Gold grow tired of someone he seemed to care about so much?

“Okay,” Lacey agreed quietly, and took his arm when he offered it to her.

They walked in silence away from the Rabbit Hole, but Lacey prefered that. The only noise came from the click of his cane and the tap of her heels. The night was still and quiet, and having him beside her was an odd sort of comfort. She’d been so wrong about their relationship before regaining her real memories, and yet that tug of a connection to Gold, that little voice at the back of her mind, kept telling her that they were something more.

Lacey held his arm a little tighter when they entered Granny’s and multiple people turned their heads to look at them. People could spread all sorts of rumours about Lacey kissing the beastly Mr. Gold, but seeing her leading him towards the stairs would turn those rumours into salacious truths. She felt him tug her closer to his side, and Lacey leaned into him.

She had nothing to be ashamed of, she told herself. He was only being a gentleman. There was no rule against him walking her to her door, and no reason why she shouldn’t want Gold’s company. Especially when he was the only one she felt really understood her. She was sure he’d understand the question that had confused Ruby.

“How long have you lived here?” She asked him over her shoulder, as they climbed the stairs up to her room. He walked a little slower than her with his cane, and Lacey waited patiently for him to follow her.

“How long were you in the hospital?” Gold countered, not unkindly, and Lacey got the same feeling from him that she’d been getting since she left the hospital. He knew something. He understood. Whatever was going on with her memory, and everyone else’s, Gold knew.

“Years,” she said simply, and Gold gave her a faint nod as if to say ‘me too’.

Unlocking the door to her temporary room, Lacey stepped inside and flicked on the light. It was decorated like all of the others, with floral bed covers, floral curtains, and more doilies in one room than Lacey would have put in a whole house.

“Why are you staying here?” He asked, following in behind her and closing the door. She became suddenly aware that they were alone together, in a bedroom, and her heart started to thrum faster at the mere thought of it.

“My dad,” she answer honestly, trying to push back those thoughts. “We keep arguing.”

“Ah.” Lacey turned to face Gold, and saw only understanding on his face. He pointed to the foot of the bed with his cane. “May I?”

It took her a moment to catch up to his meaning, but when she did Lacey felt awful. She’d made him walk all the way from the Rabbit Hole and up the stairs of Granny’s, and she hadn’t even thought to offer him a place to sit.

“Of course,” she said, nodding quickly. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

He held up a hand to assure her he was fine and nodded.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Those words were hardly reassuring, but he didn’t wince as he limped the short few steps to the end of the bed and sat down. Lacey watched him the whole way, nervously wringing her hands together in front of her stomach.

“I wish I could thank you properly for what you did to that jerk,” she said, attempting a joke, but Gold didn’t smile. “I can’t even offer you a drink.”

"It's fine," he assured her gently. Lacey thought about sitting beside him. The idea of being so close to him was a comforting one, but then she imagined him moving away from her. She wasn't sure if she could handle his rejection of her after everything her dad had told her.

"You wanted to talk about my dad's debt," she said quietly.

Gold looked her up and down, and Lacey tried to look confident and impassive by his obvious appraisal of her body, but she didn't feel it. Her heart began to beat so fast from nerves and the first tingles of arousal, that it pounded in her ears. She wasn't sure whether or not he liked what he saw, but knowing that he was looking at her that way did things to her that Lacey wasn't ready to admit.

"That was an excuse," Gold finally confessed, surprising Lacey. She hadn't expected him to admit it.

"An excuse?" She asked coyly.

"Why, would you like to pay your father's debt yourself, Miss French?" He replied, and she saw it for the challenge it was. He was testing her for some reason. Maybe he wanted to see how far she'd go to play along, or if she'd be willing to give him what he wanted. Lacey honestly wasn't sure of that herself.

"I thought not," Gold added when she didn't respond.

"Then why did you want to talk to me about it?" Lacey asked, bristling at how flippantly he'd brought up her father not being able to pay their rent, or his loan. "You knew before you mentioned it that the shop only just makes enough to pay the rent."

"I did," he admitted, and for the first time, Lacey noticed a flash of uncertainty in his eyes. If he had been testing her, he seemed almost disappointed at what he'd found. It made her stomach sink. Maybe her dad really was right. He was getting bored of her already.

She missed the Mr. Gold that had called her Belle and drove her home and bought her sweet tea every morning before work. The one who'd tried to distance himself from her but couldn't. This Mr. Gold seemed to have had no problem taking a step back from whatever had been blooming between them.

"Then why did you mention it?" Lacey repeated, and hated the tremor of desperation in her voice.

Gold stood slowly, leaning even heavier on his cane that usual. She wanted to tell him he didn't have to stand, he should sit back down and rest, but he looked determined and so Lacey stayed quiet. She watched him as he took a couple of steps towards her, cane clicking on the wooden floor.

"It was a test," he admitted. Lacey frowned at him. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or not that her hurt was turning into anger before she started to cry in front of him, but her obvious frustration with him was at least getting him to talk.

"A _test_?" She shouted. "A test of what?"

They stared at one another. Gold looked as though he was trying to choose his words carefully. There was a calculating glint in his eyes, the kind that Lacey had seen whilst he made a deal with someone in his shop. But there was something else, hidden behind his flattened lips and tensed shoulders. She didn't see it straight away, but the more Lacey stared at him, the more uncertain Gold seemed.

"To see who you really are," he told her quietly, and it made no sense. Unless...

"Are you mocking me?" Lacey demanded. If she hadn't already been staring at him, she might have missed the flash of surprise on his face. But it was soon gone again; hidden behind the stern mask of the fearsome Mr. Gold.

"Lacey," Gold said. He said it so carefully that even that sounded like a test, or a question. This was not what she'd had in mind when she'd invited him into her room.

"I thought I was Belle," she mocked, and there was that flicker of uncertainty again in his eyes. "No?" She challenged. "Then who the fuck am I to you?"

That seemed to snap whatever resolve Gold had been hanging on to. Quicker than she'd expected him to be able to move, he was in front of her and claiming her lips with his own. Lacey clung onto him. Her hands gripped at his lapels, and snaked around his neck to pull him closer.

It was nothing like the kisses she'd given him outside her house, or in Granny's diner, when she'd thought she was someone called Belle. This kiss was rough and hard and desperate. He caught her bottom lip between his teeth, and Lacey felt a heat rush between her legs.

This kiss was definitely different.

Gold edged her backwards before she realised what was happening. His firm chest pressed flush against her, pinning her between him and the wall, and Lacey used the support to wrap her leg around his waist. But it wasn't enough. She needed _more_. This was what their relationship had really been; the relationship she'd been so desperate to find out the truth about. She needed to feel him against her - all over her - to know that it was real.

Pressing her heel into Gold's back, Lacey pushed his hips against hers, and earned herself a growl from deep in the back of his throat. It hummed pleasantly against her lips, making her cheeks burn. She was sure she looked as flushed and flustered as she felt. Especially when she felt Gold's own hard desire pressed against her core.

He broke the kiss with a wet smack of their lips, both of them panting heavily. Their noses brushed, and Lacey was surprised by the sudden tenderness of it. Everything seemed to slow down. He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers, as their hot breaths mixed together, and Lacey frowned.

"Gold," she whispered softly, taking her hands from his hair. "What's wrong?"

Quicker than she could blink, Mr. Gold leaned back and stared at her with dark, searching eyes. Whatever it was he found, he had a look of dawning realisation in his eyes, and the sheepish look of a man who'd just been caught doing something he shouldn't have been.

"This isn't you," he said hoarsely and she wanted to scream. Why did he keep pulling her closer, letting her think they were going to be something more, only to push her away again?

"What do you mean?" Lacey whispered, dejected. Rejecting her after pushing her against the wall and driving her wild, was even crueller than leading her on and then leaving before anything happened. Her head span from the intensity of their kiss, and now he was pulling away from her. She wanted to cry.

"I'm sorry," Gold told her and tried to gently pull her arms from around his neck. "We shouldn't--... You can’t want this."

"I don't understand," she near enough pleaded as she let him untangle them. She stood up on shaky legs, and watched in disbelief as he gripped his cane and stepped back. "What's wrong?"

"What’s my name?" He asked her, and although his tone was kind, Lacey was still starting to feel sick.

“You’re Mr. Gold,” she answered weakly. He looked utterly lost as he watched her, and Lacey had no idea how to fix whatever had happened between them. “Did I do something wrong?”

Gold smiled at her ruefully, and with a hesitant hand, he reached out to cup her cheek. She leaned into his palm, welcoming the touch of comfort after how close they’d just been. But it was such a small gesture that she was still left feeling cold.

“You’ve been drinking,” he tried to explain. Lacey could see it for the excuse that it was. “I don’t want anything to happen now. Not while you’re like this.” Gold dropped his hand and readjusted his hold on his cane. “You’d only regret it.”

“Wait,” Lacey stepped in front of him as he moved towards the door. “Don’t go,” she insisted. “Please. Don’t go. I _want_ this. I won’t regret it.”

“I would,” he said sadly, and Lacey felt her stomach drop. “I won't take advantage of you, sweetheart.”

“What about all those other times?” Did he regret those too? “In your shop. Why is this different?”

“Because,” Gold said, and reached out to open the door. For a moment Lacey didn’t think she was going to get an answer. “This is real.”

With that, he left her alone in the room. She could barely see the door through her watery eyes, and at some point her hands had started to shake. Lacey couldn’t understand how she’d misjudged the moment so badly. Or misjudged their relationship, for that matter. She’d been so certain that they were both on the same page, and for just one blissful moment, she’d been sure that what her dad had said wasn’t true. Gold wouldn’t get bored of her.

Wiping furiously at her eyes with the backs of her hand, Lacey searched the room for where she’d dumped her duffle bag. She wasn't going to indulge her self-pity. So what if her heart was a little bruised? It wasn't as if she hadn't been warned that Gold would eventually ditch her.

She just needed to get out of that dress. She wanted to rip off everything she’d worn that night, and she started by kicking her heels off towards the door.

“Stupid man.” She cursed as she fumbled with the zip at the back of her dress. “Stupid _me._ ”

Lacey was half-way through pulling off her dress when she caught a flash of silver from inside her bag. The sight of the mirror, the beautiful and expensive gift he’d given to her, brought fresh tears to her eyes. With a trembling hand, she reached for it and pulled it out to look at her reflection.

She looked awful. Her hair was a tangled, messy bun, probably made worse by Gold running his fingers through it, and her mascara had smudged with her tears.

“No wonder he didn’t want me,” she muttered bitterly, even though she knew that wasn’t true. “Why can’t life be simple?”

A tingle ran up her arm, like the crackle of electricity, and she almost dropped the mirror as a wall of white light filled her vision. It bombarded her with one image after the other; breaking down the dam that Regina had rebuilt against her real memories.

_You just don’t think I can love you._

Her own words rang in her head, and her tears stopped. She'd said the wrong name.

"Rumple," Belle whispered, dropping the mirror onto the bed. "Rumple, wait!"

Grabbing her jacket to hide the unfastened zip at the back of her dress, Belle raced out of the door. She couldn’t see him on the stairs, but she heard the tap of his cane in the hall below. Her heart jumped with relief just knowing he was still there.

“Rumplestiltskin,” she called, without a care for who might hear her. She almost tumbled down the stairs in her hurry to reach him, and when she got to the bottom she felt two arms wrap around her back to steady her.

“Belle?” His voice filled her with the warmth she’d lost when Mr. Gold pulled away from Lacey. They weren’t them now. They were themselves, and Belle looked up to find his dark eyes wide with hope. She smiled at him tremulously and reached up to cup his cheek as he had hers.

“It’s me,” she assured him. A breathless laugh overtook her, and Rumplestiltskin grinned at her. “Will you kiss me now?”

“Belle,” he whispered again, a silent plea for her to prove she was real. She smiled at him and stroked her thumb across his cheek. “She told me you were dead.” He didn’t need to use her name for Belle to know who he meant. “But when I saw you here, I...”

“She locked me up,” she told him, her voice breaking. “She made me forget you.”

Rumple’s arms tightened around her and Belle welcomed the firm embrace. She wrapped her arms around his body, inside the warmth of his jacket, and pushed herself up onto her tiptoes to kiss him.

It was a much softer, more chaste kiss than their last one, but it was their first kiss in that land with her full memories. That alone made it perfect, and he held her so tight that Belle was certain he meant to never let her go again.

She understood then why he’d rushed out of the room. All of Lacey’s memories of the two of them together, which he shared, weren’t real. The Queen had given her those intimate memories to make her think that’s all she was to Mr. Gold. As if she could even believe that their relationship was just about sex and not emotion. And she’d given Rumple memories of himself with someone that looked like his supposedly dead maid, only to have her admitted to a mental hospital. It was cruel.

Feeling the warmth of tears coming back to her eyes, Belle pulled away and pressed their foreheads together. She clung to him as tightly as he held her, assuring him that she wouldn’t leave him again. Regina could give her as many cursed memories as she liked, Belle and Rumple had a way to break every one of them now.

“How did you know the mirror would work?” She asked as she pulled back. He still looked at her as if he couldn’t believe she really remembered him and still wanted to kiss him.

“The power of foresight,” he explained, with a familiar little flick of his wrist that made Belle smile. “I had a way to wake myself. I simply needed a way to wake you.” Rumple brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “The truth can be very powerful.”

She nodded, trying to understand. “Like True Love’s kiss.” His hand stilled, and he looked at her with a pained expression in his eyes. She knew what he was thinking about, but once he realised that she wasn’t angry with him for sending her from the castle, he relaxed and brushed his hand over her hair again.

“Precisely,” he acknowledged quietly. “It can break any curse.”

He must have known about the curse for years before Regina cast it, Belle realised. She’d have to remember to ask him about that later. Granny’s was hardly the best place for that talk.

“This was before...” Belle trailed off and Rumplestiltskin gave her a small smile.

“Before I sent you away,” he agreed. “But don’t worry.” His smile turned nasty, the sort of mock smile that Rumplestiltskin of the Dark Castle would use, not Mr. Gold the pawnbroker. “I’ll make Regina pay for what she did to you.”

“No!” Belle said quickly. “Then you’re no better than her. We’ve already won, just by being together now. We don’t need revenge.”

Rumplestiltskin’s assured smile wavered when she frowned at him. He looked torn between his need for revenge, and his wish to give her what she wanted. In the end he sighed and gave her a curt nod.

“We can’t let her know we’re awake,” he said, a subtle promise that, for now, he wouldn’t do anything.

“Right,” she readily agreed.

“Until the rest of the town wakes up,” Rumplestiltskin pulled back with a playful smirk, and offered her his arm, “We’re Lacey and Mr. Gold.”

“Well, Mr. Gold,” Belle took his arm and smiled, “I believe we have some unfinished business.”

Rumple nodded thoughtfully, as his gaze drifted back up the stairs. A smirk toyed at his lips, and told her exactly what he was thinking about.

“Get your things,” he instructed. “You’re not staying here, Miss French.” He spoke so seriously, in that no-nonsense tone of Mr. Gold, but Belle saw the happiness dancing in his eyes when he looked back down at her. She bit her lip to keep herself from grinning at him.

“I have nowhere else to go,” she half-heartedly protested.

“Oh, I'm sure we can come to some arrangement,” he said matter-of-factly, and her heart skipped at the reminder of the arrangement the curse had given Mr. Gold and Lacey. “I don’t live at the shop, dearie.”

“Are you... asking me to move in, Mr. Gold?”

“Well, where else are you going to go, Miss French?”

Their eyes met, and she wondered if his question had made him think of the same thing it reminded her of. She thought of their first meeting, and their promise of forever, and she smiled at him.

“I’ll go with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me @[mareyshelley](http://mareyshelley.tumblr.com) on tumblr]


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